AS Tarzan carried the dead Bolgani from the village of the Gomangani, he set his steps in the direction of the building he had seen from the rim of the valley, the curiosity of the man overcoming the natural caution of the beast. He was traveling up wind and the odors wafted down to his nostrils told him that he was approaching the habitat of the Bolgani. Intermingled with the scent spoor of the gorilla-men was that of Gomangani and the odor of cooked food, and the suggestion of a heavily sweet scent, which the ape-man could connect only with burning incense, though it seemed impossible that such a fragrance could emanate from the dwellings of the Bolgani. Perhaps it came from the great edifice he had seen—a building which must have been constructed by human beings, and in which human beings might still dwell, though never among the multitudinous odors that assailed his nostrils did he once catch the faintest suggestion of the man scent of whites.
When he perceived from the increasing strength of their odor, that he was approaching close to the Bolgani, Tarzan took to the trees with his burden, that he might thus stand a better chance of avoiding discovery, and presently, through the foliage ahead, he saw a lofty wall, and, beyond, the outlines of the weird architecture of a strange and mysterious pile—outlines that suggested a building of another world, so unearthly were they, and from beyond the wall came the odor of the Bolgani and the fragrance of the incense, intermingled with the scent spoor of Numa, the lion. The jungle was cleared away for fifty feet outside the wall surrounding the building, so that there was no tree overhanging the wall, but Tarzan approached as closely as he could, while still remaining reasonably well concealed by the foliage. He had chosen a point at a sufficient height above the ground to permit him to see over the top of the wall.
The building within the enclosure was of great size, its different parts appearing to have been constructed at various periods, and each with utter disregard to uniformity, resulting in a conglomeration of connecting buildings and towers, no two of which were alike, though the whole presented a rather pleasing, if somewhat bizarre appearance. The building stood upon an artificial elevation about ten feet high, surrounded by a retaining wall of granite, a wide staircase leading to the ground level below. About the building were shrubbery and trees, some of the latter appearing to be of great antiquity, while one enormous tower was almost entirely covered by ivy. By far the most remarkable feature of the building, however, lay in its rich and barbaric ornamentation. Set into the polished granite of which it was composed was an intricate mosaic of gold and diamonds; glittering stones in countless thousands scintillated from façades, minarets, domes, and towers.
The enclosure, which comprised some fifteen or twenty acres, was occupied for the most part by the building. The terrace upon which it stood was devoted to walks, flowers, shrubs, and ornamental trees, while that part of the area below, which was within the range of Tarzan’s vision, seemed to be given over to the raising of garden truck. In the garden and upon the terrace were naked blacks, such as he had seen in the village where he had left La. There were both men and women, and these were occupied with the care of growing things within the enclosure. Among them were several of the gorilla-like creatures such as Tarzan had slain in the village, but these performed no labor, devoting themselves, rather, it seemed, to directing the work of the blacks, toward whom their manner was haughty and domineering, sometimes even brutal. These gorilla-men were trapped in rich ornaments, similar to those upon the body which now rested in a crotch of the tree behind the ape-man.
As Tarzan watched with interest the scene below him, two Bolgani emerged from the main entrance, a huge portal, some thirty feet in width, and perhaps fifteen feet high. The two wore head-bands, supporting tall, white feathers. As they emerged they took post on either side of the entrance, and cupping their hands before their mouths gave voice to a series of shrill cries that bore a marked resemblance to trumpet calls. Immediately the blacks ceased work and hastened to the foot of the stairs descending from the terrace to the garden. Here they formed lines on either side of the stairway, and similarly the Bolgani formed two lines upon the terrace from the main portal to the stairway, forming a living aisle from one to the other. Presently from the interior of the building came other trumpet-like calls, and a moment later Tarzan saw the head of a procession emerging. First came four Bolgani abreast, each bedecked with an ornate feather headdress, and each carrying a huge bludgeon erect before him. Behind these came two trumpeters, and twenty feet behind the trumpeters paced a huge, black-maned lion, held in leash by four sturdy blacks, two upon either side, holding what appeared to be golden chains that ran to a scintillant diamond collar about the beast’s neck. Behind the lion marched twenty more Bolgani, four abreast. These carried spears, but whether they were for the purpose of protecting the lion from the people or the people from the lion Tarzan was at a loss to know.
The attitude of the Bolgani lining either side of the way between the portal and the stairway indicated extreme deference, for they bent their bodies from their waists in a profound bow while Numa was passing between their lines. When the beast reached the top of the stairway the procession halted, and immediately the Gomangani ranged below prostrated themselves and placed their foreheads on the ground. Numa, who was evidently an old lion, stood with lordly mien surveying the prostrate humans before him. His evil eyes glared glassily, the while he bared his tusks in a savage grimace, and from his deep lungs rumbled forth an ominous roar, at the sound of which the Gomangani trembled in unfeigned terror. The ape-man knit his brows in thought. Never before had he been called upon to witness so remarkable a scene of the abasement of man before a beast. Presently the procession continued upon its way descending the staircase and turning to the right along a path through the garden, and when it had passed them the Gomangani and the Bolgani arose and resumed their interrupted duties.
Tarzan remained in his concealment watching them, trying to discover some explanation for the strange, paradoxical conditions that he had witnessed. The lion, with his retinue, had turned the far corner of the palace and disappeared from sight. What was he to these people, to these strange creatures? What did he represent? Why this topsy-turvy arrangement of species? Here man ranked lower than the half-beast, and above all, from the deference that had been accorded him, stood a true beast—a savage carnivore.
He had been occupied with his thoughts and his observations for some fifteen minutes following the disappearance of Numa around the eastern end of the palace, when his attention was attracted to the opposite end of the structure by the sound of other shrill trumpet calls. Turning his eyes in that direction, he saw the procession emerging again into view, and proceeding toward the staircase down which they had entered the garden. Immediately the notes of the shrill call sounded upon their ears the Gomangani and the Bolgani resumed their original positions from below the foot of the staircase to the entrance to the palace, and once again was homage paid to Numa as he made his triumphal entry into the building.
Tarzan of the Apes ran his fingers through his mass of tousled hair, but finally he was forced to shake his head in defeat—he could find no explanation whatsoever for all that he had witnessed. His curiosity, however, was so keenly piqued that he determined to investigate the palace and surrounding grounds further before continuing on his way in search of a trail out of the valley.
Leaving the body of Bolgani where he had cached it, he started slowly to circle the building that he might examine it from all sides from the concealing foliage of the surrounding forest. He found the architecture equally unique upon all sides, and that the garden extended entirely around the building, though a portion upon the south side of the palace was given over to corrals and pens in which were kept numerous goats and a considerable flock of chickens. Upon this side, also, were several hundred swinging, beehive huts, such as he had seen in the native village of the Gomangani. These he took to be the quarters of the black slaves, who performed all the arduous and menial labor connected with the palace.
The lofty granite wall which surrounded the entire enclosure was pierced by but a single gate which opened opposite the east end of the palace. This gate was large and of massive construction, appearing to have been built to withstand the assault of numerous and well-armed forces. So strong did it appear that the ape-man could not but harbor the opinion that it had been constructed to protect the interior against forces equipped with heavy battering rams. That such a force had ever existed within the vicinity in historic times seemed most unlikely, and Tarzan conjectured, therefore, that the wall and the gate were of almost unthinkable antiquity, dating, doubtless, from the forgotten age of the Atlantians, and constructed, perhaps, to protect the builders of the Palace of Diamonds from the well-armed forces that had come from Atlantis to work the gold mines of Opar and to colonize central Africa.
While the wall, the gate, and the palace itself, suggested in many ways almost unbelievable age, yet they were in such an excellent state of repair that it was evident that they were still inhabited by rational and intelligent creatures; while upon the south side Tarzan had seen a new tower in process of construction, where a number of blacks working under the direction of Bolgani were cutting and shaping granite blocks and putting them in place.
Tarzan had halted in a tree near the east gate to watch the life passing in and out of the palace grounds beneath the ancient portal, and as he watched, a long cavalcade of powerful Gomangani emerged from the forest and entered the enclosure. Swung in hides between two poles, this party was carrying rough-hewn blocks of granite, four men to a block. Two or three Bolgani accompanied the long line of carriers, which was preceded and followed by a detachment of black warriors, armed with battle-axes and spears. The demeanor and attitude of the black porters, as well as of the Bolgani, suggested to the ape-man nothing more nor less than a caravan of donkeys, plodding their stupid way at the behest of their drivers. If one lagged he was prodded with the point of a spear or struck with its haft. There was no greater brutality shown than in the ordinary handling of beasts of burden the world around, nor in the demeanor of the blacks was there any more indication of objection or revolt than you see depicted upon the faces of a long line of burden-bearing mules; to all intents and purposes they were dumb, driven cattle. Slowly they filed through the gateway and disappeared from sight.
A few moments later another party came out of the forest and passed into the palace grounds. This consisted of fully fifty armed Bolgani and twice as many black warriors with spears and axes. Entirely surrounded by these armed creatures were four brawny porters, carrying a small litter, upon which was fastened an ornate chest about two feet wide by four feet long, with a depth of approximately two feet. The chest itself was of some dark, weather-worn wood, and was reinforced by bands and corners of what appeared to be virgin gold in which were set many diamonds. What the chest contained Tarzan could not, of course, conceive, but that it was considered of great value was evidenced by the precautions for safety with which it had been surrounded. The chest was borne directly into the huge, ivy-covered tower at the northeast corner of the palace, the entrance to which, Tarzan now first observed, was secured by doors as large and heavy as the east gate itself.
At the first opportunity that he could seize to accomplish it undiscovered, Tarzan swung across the jungle trail and continued through the trees to that one in which he had left the body of the Bolgani. Throwing this across his shoulder he returned to a point close above the trail near the east gate, and seizing upon a moment when there was a lull in the traffic he hurled the body as close to the portal as possible.
“Now,” thought the ape-man, “let them guess who slew their fellow if they can.”
Making his way toward the southeast, Tarzan approached the mountains which lie back of the Valley of the Palace of Diamonds. He had often to make detours to avoid native villages and to keep out of sight of the numerous parties of Bolgani that seemed to be moving in all directions through the forest. Late in the afternoon he came out of the hills into full view of the mountains beyond—rough, granite hills they were, whose precipitous peaks arose far above the timber line. Directly before him a well-marked trail led into a canyon, which he could see wound far upward toward the summit. This, then, would be as good a place to commence his investigations as another. And so, seeing that the coast was clear, the ape-man descended from the trees, and taking advantage of the underbrush bordering the trail, made his way silently, yet swiftly, into the hills. For the most part he was compelled to worm his way through thickets, for the trail was in constant use by Gomangani and Bolgani, parties passing up it empty-handed and, returning, bearing blocks of granite. As he advanced more deeply into the hills the heavy underbrush gave way to a lighter growth of scrub, through which he could pass with far greater ease though with considerable more risk of discovery. However, the instinct of the beast that dominated Tarzan’s jungle craft permitted him to find cover where another would have been in full view of every enemy. Half way up the mountain the trail passed through a narrow gorge, not more than twenty feet wide and eroded from solid granite cliffs. Here there was no concealment whatsoever, and the ape-man realized that to enter it would mean almost immediate discovery. Glancing about, he saw that by making a slight detour he could reach the summit of the gorge, where, amid tumbled, granite boulders and stunted trees and shrubs, he knew that he could find sufficient concealment, and perhaps a plainer view of the trail beyond.
Nor was he mistaken, for, when he had reached a vantage point far above the trail, he saw ahead an open pocket in the mountain, the cliffs surrounding which were honeycombed with numerous openings, which, it seemed to Tarzan, could be naught else than the mouths of tunnels. Rough wooden ladders reached to some of them, closer to the base of the cliffs, while from others knotted ropes dangled to the ground below. Out of these tunnels emerged men carrying little sacks of earth, which they dumped in a common pile beside a rivulet which ran through the gorge. Here other blacks, supervised by Bolgani, were engaged in washing the dirt, but what they hoped to find or what they did find, Tarzan could not guess.
Along one side of the rocky basin many other blacks were engaged in quarrying the granite from the cliffs, which had been cut away through similar operations into a series of terraces running from the floor of the basin to the summit of the cliff. Here naked blacks toiled with primitive tools under the supervision of savage Bolgani. The activities of the quarrymen were obvious enough, but what the others were bringing from the mouths of the tunnels Tarzan could not be positive, though the natural assumption was that it was gold. Where, then, did they obtain their diamonds? Certainly not from these solid granite cliffs.
A few minutes’ observation convinced Tarzan that the trail he had followed from the forest ended in this little cul-de-sac, and so he sought a way upward and around it, in search of a pass across the range.
The balance of that day and nearly all the next he devoted to his efforts in this direction, only in the end to be forced to admit that there was no egress from the valley upon this side. To points far above the timber line he made his way, but there, always, he came face to face with sheer, perpendicular cliffs of granite towering high above him, upon the face of which not even the ape-man could find foothold. Along the southern and eastern sides of the basin he carried his investigation, but with similar disappointing results, and then at last he turned his steps back toward the forest with the intention of seeking a way out through the valley of Opar with La, after darkness had fallen.
The sun had just risen when Tarzan arrived at the native village in which he had left La, and no sooner did his eyes rest upon it than he became apprehensive that something was amiss, for, not only was the gate wide open but there was no sign of life within the palisade, nor was there any movement of the swinging huts that would indicate that they were occupied. Always wary of ambush, Tarzan reconnoitered carefully before descending into the village. To his trained observation it became evident that the village had been deserted for at least twenty-four hours. Running to the hut in which La had been hidden he hastily ascended the rope and examined the interior—it was vacant, nor was there any sign of the High Priestess. Descending to the ground, the ape-man started to make a thorough investigation of the village in search of clews to the fate of its inhabitants and of La. He had examined the interiors of several huts when his keen eyes noted a slight movement of one of the swinging, cage-like habitations some distance from him. Quickly he crossed the intervening space, and as he approached the hut he saw that no rope trailed from its doorway. Halting beneath, Tarzan raised his face to the aperture, through which nothing but the roof of the hut was visible.
“Gomangani,” he cried, “it is I, Tarzan of the Apes. Come to the opening and tell me what has become of your fellows and of my mate, whom I left here under the protection of your warriors.”
There was no answer, and again Tarzan called, for he was positive that someone was hiding in the hut.
“Come down,” he called again, “or I will come up after you.”
Still there was no reply. A grim smile touched the ape-man’s lips as he drew his hunting knife from its sheath and placed it between his teeth, and then, with a cat-like spring, leaped for the opening, and catching its sides, drew his body up into the interior of the hut.
If he had expected opposition, he met with none, nor in the dimly lighted interior could he at first distinguish any presence, though, when his eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness, he descried a bundle of leaves and grasses lying against the opposite wall of the structure. Crossing to these he tore them aside revealing the huddled form of a terrified woman. Seizing her by a shoulder he drew her to a sitting position.
“What has happened?” he demanded. “Where are the villagers? Where is my mate?”
“Do not kill me! Do not kill me!” she cried. “It was not I. It was not my fault.”
“I do not intend to kill you,” replied Tarzan. “Tell me the truth and you shall be safe.”
“The Bolgani have taken them away,” cried the woman. “They came when the sun was low upon the day that you arrived, and they were very angry, for they had found the body of their fellow outside the gate of the Palace of Diamonds. They knew that he had come here to our village, and no one had seen him alive since he had departed from the palace. They came, then, and threatened and tortured our people, until at last the warriors told them all. I hid. I do not know why they did not find me. But at last they went away, taking all the others with them; taking your mate, too. They will never come back.”
“You think that the Bolgani will kill them?” asked Tarzan.
“Yes,” she replied, “they kill all who displease them.”
Alone, now, and relieved of the responsibility of La, Tarzan might easily make his way by night through the valley of Opar and to safety beyond the barrier. But perhaps such a thought never entered his head. Gratitude and loyalty were marked characteristics of the ape-man. La had saved him from the fanaticism and intrigue of her people. She had saved him at a cost of all that was most dear to her, power and position, peace and safety. She had jeopardized her life for him, and become an exile from her own country. The mere fact then that the Bolgani had taken her with the possible intention of slaying her, was not sufficient for the ape-man. He must know whether or not she lived, and if she lived he must devote his every energy to winning her release and her eventual escape from the dangers of this valley.
Tarzan spent the day reconnoitering outside the palace grounds, seeking an opportunity of gaining entrance without detection, but this he found impossible inasmuch as there was never a moment that there were not Gomangani or Bolgani in the outer garden. But with the approach of darkness the great east gate was closed, and the inmates of the huts and palace withdrew within their walls, leaving not even a single sentinel without—a fact that indicated clearly that the Bolgani had no reason to apprehend an attack. The subjugation of the Gomangani, then, was apparently complete, and so the towering wall surrounding their palace, which was more than sufficient to protect them from the inroads of lions, was but the reminder of an ancient day when a once-powerful, but now vanished, enemy threatened their peace and safety.
When darkness had finally settled Tarzan approached the gate, and throwing the noose of his grass rope over one of the carved lions that capped the gate posts, ascended quickly to the summit of the wall, from where he dropped lightly into the garden below. To insure an avenue for quick escape in the event that he found La, he unlatched the heavy gates and swung them open. Then he crept stealthily toward the ivy-covered east tower, which he had chosen after a day of investigation as offering easiest ingress to the palace. The success of his plan hinged largely upon the age and strength of the ivy which grew almost to the summit of the tower, and, to his immense relief, he found that it would easily support his weight.
Far above the ground, near the summit of the tower, he had seen from the trees surrounding the palace an open window, which, unlike the balance of those in this part of the palace, was without bars. Dim lights shone from several of the tower windows, as from those of other parts of the palace. Avoiding these lighted apertures, Tarzan ascended quickly, though carefully, toward the unbarred window above, and as he reached it and cautiously raised his eyes above the level of the sill, he was delighted to find that it opened into an unlighted chamber, the interior of which, however, was so shrouded in darkness that he could discern nothing within. Drawing himself carefully to the level of the sill he crept quietly into the apartment beyond. Groping through the blackness, he cautiously made the rounds of the room, which he found to contain a carved bedstead of peculiar design, a table, and a couple of benches. Upon the bedstead were stuffs of woven material, thrown over the softly tanned pelts of antelopes and leopards.
Opposite the window through which he had entered was a closed door. This he opened slowly and silently, until, through a tiny aperture he could look out upon a dimly lighted corridor or circular hallway, in the center of which was an opening about four feet in diameter, passing through which and disappearing beyond a similar opening in the ceiling directly above was a straight pole with short crosspieces fastened to it at intervals of about a foot—quite evidently the primitive staircase which gave communication between the various floors of the tower. Three upright columns, set at equal intervals about the circumference of the circular opening in the center of the floor helped to support the ceiling above. Around the outside of this circular hallway there were other doors, similar to that opening into the apartment in which he was.
Hearing no noise and seeing no evidence of another than himself, Tarzan opened the door and stepped into the hallway. His nostrils were now assailed strongly by the same heavy fragrance of incense that had first greeted him upon his approach to the palace several days before. In the interior of the tower, however, it was much more powerful, practically obliterating all other odors, and placing upon the ape-man an almost prohibitive handicap in his search for La. In fact as he viewed the doors upon this single stage of the tower, he was filled with consternation at the prospect of the well-nigh impossible task that confronted him. To search this great tower alone, without any assistance whatever from his keen sense of scent, seemed impossible of accomplishment, if he were to take even the most ordinary precautions against detection.
The ape-man’s self-confidence was in no measure blundering egotism. Knowing his limitations, he knew that he would have little or no chance against even a few Bolgani were he to be discovered within their palace, where all was familiar to them and strange to him. Behind him was the open window, and the silent jungle night, and freedom. Ahead danger, predestined failure; and, quite likely, death. Which should he choose? For a moment he stood in silent thought, and then, raising his head and squaring his great shoulders, he shook his black locks defiantly and stepped boldly toward the nearest door. Room after room he had investigated until he had made the entire circle of the landing, but in so far as La or any clew to her were concerned his search was fruitless. He found quaint furniture and rugs and tapestries, and ornaments of gold and diamonds, and in one dimly lighted chamber he came upon a sleeping Bolgani, but so silent were the movements of the ape-man that the sleeper slept on undisturbed, even though Tarzan passed entirely around his bed, which was set in the center of the chamber, and investigated a curtained alcove beyond.
Having completed the rounds of this floor, Tarzan determined to work upward first and then, returning, investigate the lower stages later. Pursuant to this plan, therefore, he ascended the strange stairway. Three landings he passed before he reached the upper floor of the tower. Circling each floor was a ring of doors, all of which were closed, while dimly lighting each landing were feebly burning cressets—shallow, golden bowls—containing what appeared to be tallow, in which floated a tow-like wick.
Upon the upper landing there were but three doors, all of which were closed. The ceiling of this hallway was the dome-like roof of the tower, in the center of which was another circular opening, through which the stairway protruded into the darkness of the night above.
As Tarzan opened the door nearest him it creaked upon its hinges, giving forth the first audible sound that had resulted from his investigations up to this point. The interior of the apartment before him was unlighted, and as Tarzan stood there in the entrance in statuesque silence for a few seconds following the creaking of the hinge, he was suddenly aware of movement—of the faintest shadow of a sound—behind him. Wheeling quickly he saw the figure of a man standing in an open doorway upon the opposite side of the landing.
ESTEBAN MIRANDA had played the rôle of Tarzan of the Apes with the Waziri as his audience for less than twenty-four hours when he began to realize that, even with the lee-way that his supposedly injured brain gave him, it was going to be a very difficult thing to carry on the deception indefinitely. In the first place Usula did not seem at all pleased at the idea of merely taking the gold away from the intruders and then running from them. Nor did his fellow warriors seem any more enthusiastic over the plan than he. As a matter of fact they could not conceive that any number of bumps upon the head could render their Tarzan of the Apes a coward, and to run away from these west coast blacks and a handful of inexperienced whites seemed nothing less than cowardly.
Following all this, there had occurred in the afternoon that which finally decided the Spaniard that he was building for himself anything other than a bed of roses, and that the sooner he found an excuse for quitting the company of the Waziri the greater would be his life expectancy.
They were passing through rather open jungle at the time. The brush was not particularly heavy and the trees were at considerable distances apart, when suddenly, without warning, a rhinoceros charged them. To the consternation of the Waziri, Tarzan of the Apes turned and fled for the nearest tree the instant his eyes alighted upon charging Buto. In his haste Esteban tripped and fell, and when at last he reached the tree instead of leaping agilely into the lower branches, he attempted to shin up the huge bole as a schoolboy shins up a telegraph pole, only to slip and fall back again to the ground.
In the meantime Buto, who charges either by scent or hearing, rather than by eyesight, his powers of which are extremely poor, had been distracted from his original direction by one of the Waziri, and after missing the fellow had gone blundering on to disappear in the underbrush beyond.
When Esteban finally arose and discovered that the rhinoceros was gone, he saw surrounding him a semi-circle of huge blacks, upon whose faces were written expressions of pity and sorrow, not unmingled, in some instances, with a tinge of contempt. The Spaniard saw that he had been terrified into a practically irreparable blunder, yet he seized despairingly upon the only excuse he could conjure up.
“My poor head,” he cried, pressing both palms to his temples.
“The blow was upon your head, Bwana,” said Usula, “and your faithful Waziri thought that it was the heart of their master that knew no fear.”
Esteban made no reply, and in silence they resumed their march. In silence they continued until they made camp before dark upon the bank of the river just above a waterfall. During the afternoon Esteban had evolved a plan of escape from his dilemma, and no sooner had he made camp than he ordered the Waziri to bury the treasure.
“We shall leave it here,” he said, “and tomorrow we shall set forth in search of the thieves, for I have decided to punish them. They must be taught that they may not come into the jungle of Tarzan with impunity. It was only the injury to my head that prevented me from slaying them immediately I discovered their perfidy.”
This attitude pleased the Waziri better. They commenced to see a ray of hope. Once again was Tarzan of the Apes becoming Tarzan. And so it was that with lighter hearts and a new cheerfulness they set forth the next morning in search of the camp of the Englishmen, and by shrewd guessing on Usula’s part they cut across the jungle to intercept the probable line of march of the Europeans to such advantage that they came upon them just as they were making camp that night. Long before they reached them they smelled the smoke of their fires and heard the songs and chatter of the west coast carriers.
Then it was that Esteban gathered the Waziri about him. “My children,” he said, addressing Usula in English, “these strangers have come here to wrong Tarzan. To Tarzan, then, belongs the vengeance. Go, therefore, and leave me to punish my enemies alone and in my own way. Return home, leave the gold where it is, for it will be a long time before I shall need it.”
The Waziri were disappointed, for this new plan did not at all accord with their desires, which contemplated a cheerful massacre of the west coast blacks. But as yet the man before them was Tarzan, their big Bwana, to whom they had never failed in implicit obedience. For a few moments following Esteban’s declaration of his intention, they stood in silence shifting uneasily, and then at last they commenced to speak to one another in Waziri. What they said the Spaniard did not know, but evidently they were urging something upon Usula, who presently turned toward him.
“Oh, Bwana,” cried the black. “How can we return home to the Lady Jane and tell her that we left you injured and alone to face the rifles of the white men and their askari? Do not ask us to do it, Bwana. If you were yourself we should not fear for your safety, but since the injury to your head you have not been the same, and we fear to leave you alone in the jungle. Let us, then, your faithful Waziri, punish these people, after which we will take you home in safety, where you may be cured of the evils that have fallen upon you.”
The Spaniard laughed. “I am entirely recovered,” he said, “and I am in no more danger alone than I would be with you,” which he knew, even better than they, was but a mild statement of the facts. “You will obey my wishes,” he continued sternly. “Go back at once the way that we have come. After you have gone at least two miles you may make camp for the night, and in the morning start out again for home. Make no noise, I do not want them to know that I am here. Do not worry about me. I am all right, and I shall probably overtake you before you reach home. Go!”
Sorrowfully the Waziri turned back upon the trail they had just covered and a moment later the last of them disappeared from the sight of the Spaniard.
With a sigh of relief Esteban Miranda turned toward the camp of his own people. Fearing that to surprise them suddenly might invite a volley of shots from the askari he whistled, and then called aloud as he approached.
“It is Tarzan!” cried the first of the blacks who saw him. “Now indeed shall we all be killed.”
Esteban saw the growing excitement among the carriers and askari—he saw the latter seize their rifles and that they were fingering the triggers nervously.
“It is I, Esteban Miranda,” he called aloud. “Flora! Flora, tell those fools to lay aside their rifles.”
The whites, too, were standing watching him, and at the sound of his voice Flora turned toward the blacks. “It is all right,” she said, “that is not Tarzan. Lay aside your rifles.”
Esteban entered the camp, smiling. “Here I am,” he said.
“We thought that you were dead,” said Kraski. “Some of these fellows said that Tarzan said that he had killed you.”
“He captured me,” said Esteban, “but as you see he did not kill me. I thought that he was going to, but he did not, and finally he turned me loose in the jungle. He may have thought that I could not survive and that he would accomplish his end just as surely without having my blood upon his hands.”
“ ’E must have knowed you,” said Peebles. “You’d die, all right, if you were left alone very long in the jungle—you’d starve to death.”
Esteban made no reply to the sally but turned toward Flora. “Are you not glad to see me, Flora?” he asked.
The girl shrugged her shoulders. “What is the difference?” she asked. “Our expedition is a failure. Some of them think you were largely to blame.” She nodded her head in the general direction of the other whites.
The Spaniard scowled. None of them cared very much to see him. He did not care about the others, but he had hoped that Flora would show some enthusiasm about his return. Well, if she had known what he had in his mind, she might have been happier to see him, and only too glad to show some kind of affection. But she did not know. She did not know that Esteban Miranda had hidden the golden ingots where he might go another day and get them. It had been his intention to persuade her to desert the others, and then, later, the two would return and recover the treasure, but now he was piqued and offended—none of them should have a shilling of it—he would wait until they left Africa and then he would return and take it all for himself. The only fly in the ointment was the thought that the Waziri knew the location of the treasure, and that, sooner or later, they would return with Tarzan and get it. This weak spot in his calculations must be strengthened, and to strengthen it he must have assistance which would mean sharing his secret with another, but whom?
Outwardly oblivious of the sullen glances of his companions he took his place among them. It was evident to him that they were far from being glad to see him, but just why he did not know, for he had not heard of the plan that Kraski and Owaza had hatched to steal the loot of the ivory raiders, and that their main objection to his presence was the fear that they would be compelled to share the loot with him. It was Kraski who first voiced the thought that was in the minds of all but Esteban.
“Miranda,” he said, “it is the consensus of opinion that you and Bluber are largely responsible for the failure of our venture. We are not finding fault. I just mention it as a fact. But since you have been away we have struck upon a plan to take something out of Africa that will partially recompense us for the loss of the gold. We have worked the thing all out carefully and made our plans. We don’t need you to carry them out. We have no objection to your coming along with us, if you want to, for company, but we want to have it understood from the beginning that you are not to share in anything that we get out of this.”
The Spaniard smiled and waved a gesture of unconcern. “It is perfectly all right,” he said. “I shall ask for nothing. I would not wish to take anything from any of you.” And he grinned inwardly as he thought of the more than quarter of a million pounds in gold which he would one day take out of Africa for himself, alone.
At this unexpected attitude of acquiescence upon Esteban’s part the others were greatly relieved, and immediately the entire atmosphere of constraint was removed.
“You’re a good fellow, Esteban,” said Peebles. “I’ve been sayin’ right along that you’d want to do the right thing, and I want to say that I’m mighty glad to see you back here safe an’ sound. I felt terrible when I ’eard you was croaked, that I did.”
“Yes,” said Bluber, “John he feel so bad he cry himself to sleep every night, ain’t it, John?”
“Don’t try to start nothin’, Bluber,” growled Peebles, glaring at the Jew.
“I vasn’t commencing to start nodding,” replied Adolph, seeing that the big Englishman was angry; “of course ve vere all sorry dat ve t’ought Esteban was killed und ve is all glad dot he is back.”
“And that he don’t want any of the swag,” added Throck.
“Don’t worry,” said Esteban, “If I get back to London I’ll be happy enough—I’ve had enough of Africa to last me all the rest of my life.”
Before he could get to sleep that night, the Spaniard spent a wakeful hour or two trying to evolve a plan whereby he might secure the gold absolutely to himself, without fear of its being removed by the Waziri later. He knew that he could easily find the spot where he had buried it and remove it to another close by, provided that he could return immediately over the trail along which Usula had led them that day, and he could do this alone, insuring that no one but himself would know the new location of the hiding place of the gold, but he was equally positive that he could never again return later from the coast and find where he had hidden it. This meant that he must share his secret with another—one familiar with the country who could find the spot again at any time and from any direction. But who was there whom he might trust! In his mind he went carefully over the entire personnel of their safari, and continually his mind reverted to a single individual—Owaza. He had no confidence in the wily old scoundrel’s integrity, but there was no other who suited his purpose as well, and finally he was forced to the conclusion that he must share his secret with this black, and depend upon avarice rather than honor for his protection. He could repay the fellow well—make him rich beyond his wildest dreams, and this the Spaniard could well afford to do in view of the tremendous fortune at stake. And so he fell asleep dreaming of what gold, to the value of over a quarter of a million pounds sterling, would accomplish in the gay capitals of the world.
The following morning while they were breakfasting Esteban mentioned casually that he had passed a large herd of antelope not far from their camp the previous day, and suggested that he take four or five men and do a little hunting, joining the balance of the party at camp that night. No one raised any objection, possibly for the reason that they assumed that the more he hunted and the further from the safari he went the greater the chances of his being killed, a contingency that none of them would have regretted, since at heart they had neither liking nor trust for him.
“I will take Owaza,” he said. “He is the cleverest hunter of them all, and five or six men of his choosing.” But later, when he approached Owaza, the black interposed objections to the hunt.
“We have plenty of meat for two days,” he said. “Let us go on as fast as we can, away from the land of the Waziri and Tarzan. I can find plenty of game anywhere between here and the coast. March for two days, and then I will hunt with you.”
“Listen,” said Esteban, in a whisper. “It is more than antelope that I would hunt. I cannot tell you here in camp, but when we have left the others I will explain. It will pay you better to come with me today than all the ivory you can hope to get from the raiders.” Owaza cocked an attentive ear and scratched his woolly head.
“It is a good day to hunt, Bwana,” he said. “I will come with you and bring five boys.”
After Owaza had planned the march for the main party and arranged for the camping place for the night, so that he and the Spaniard could find them again, the hunting party set out upon the trail that Usula had followed from the buried treasure the preceding day. They had not gone far before Owaza discovered the fresh spoor of the Waziri.
“Many men passed here late yesterday,” he said to Esteban, eyeing the Spaniard quizzically.
“I saw nothing of them,” replied the latter. “They must have come this way after I passed.”
“They came almost to our camp, and then they turned about and went away again,” said Owaza. “Listen, Bwana, I carry a rifle and you shall march ahead of me. If these tracks were made by your people, and you are leading me into ambush, you shall be the first to die.”
“Listen, Owaza,” said Esteban, “we are far enough from camp now so that I may tell you all. These tracks were made by the Waziri of Tarzan of the Apes, who buried the gold for me a day’s march from here. I have sent them home, and I wish you to go back with me and move the gold to another hiding place. After these others have gotten their ivory and returned to England, you and I will come back and get the gold, and then, indeed, shall you be well rewarded.”
“Who are you, then?” asked Owaza. “Often have I doubted that you are Tarzan of the Apes. The day that we left the camp outside of Opar one of my men told me that you had been poisoned by your own people and left in the camp. He said that he saw it with his own eyes—your body lying hidden behind some bushes—and yet you were with us upon the march that day. I thought that he lied to me, but I saw the consternation in his face when he saw you, and so I have often wondered if there were two Tarzans of the Apes.”
“I am not Tarzan of the Apes,” said Esteban. “It was Tarzan of the Apes who was poisoned in our camp by the others. But they only gave him something that would put him to sleep for a long time, possibly with the hope that he would be killed by wild animals before he awoke. Whether or not he still lives we do not know. Therefore you have nothing to fear from the Waziri or Tarzan on my account, Owaza, for I want to keep out of their way even more than you.”
The black nodded. “Perhaps you speak the truth,” he said, but still he walked behind, with his rifle always ready in his hand.
They went warily, for fear of overtaking the Waziri, but shortly after passing the spot where the latter had camped they saw that they had taken another route and that there was now no danger of coming in contact with them.
When they had reached a point within about a mile of the spot where the gold had been buried, Esteban told Owaza to have his boys remain there while they went ahead alone to effect the transfer of the ingots.
“The fewer who know of this,” he said to the black, “the safer we shall be.”
“The Bwana speaks words of wisdom,” replied the wily black.
Esteban found the spot near the waterfall without difficulty, and upon questioning Owaza he discovered that the latter knew the location perfectly, and would have no difficulty in coming directly to it again from the coast. They transferred the gold but a short distance, concealing it in a heavy thicket near the edge of the river, knowing that it would be as safe from discovery there as though they had transported it a hundred miles, for the chances were extremely slight that the Waziri or anyone else who should learn of its original hiding place would imagine that anyone would go to the trouble of removing it but a matter of a hundred yards.
When they had finished Owaza looked at the sun.
“We will never reach camp tonight,” he said, “and we will have to travel fast to overtake them even tomorrow.”
“I did not expect to,” replied Esteban, “but I could not tell them that. If we never find them again I shall be satisfied.” Owaza grinned. In his crafty mind an idea was formed.
“Why,” he thought, “risk death in a battle with the Arab ivory raiders on the chance of securing a few tusks, when all this gold awaits only transportation to the coast to be ours?”
TARZAN, turning, discovered the man standing behind him on the top level of the ivy-covered east tower of the Palace of Diamonds. His knife leaped from its sheath at the touch of his quick fingers. But almost simultaneously his hand dropped to his side, and he stood contemplating the other, with an expression of incredulity upon his face that but reflected a similar emotion registered upon the countenance of the stranger. For what Tarzan saw was no Bolgani, nor a Gomangani, but a white man, bald and old and shriveled, with a long, white beard—a white man, naked but for barbaric ornaments of gold spangles and diamonds.
“God!” exclaimed the strange apparition.
Tarzan eyed the other quizzically. That single English word opened up such tremendous possibilities for conjecture as baffled the mind of the ape-man.
“What are you? Who are you?” continued the old man, but this time in the dialect of the great apes.
“You used an English word a moment ago,” said Tarzan. “Do you speak that language?” Tarzan himself spoke in English.
“Ah, dear God!” cried the old man, “that I should have lived to hear that sweet tongue again.” And he, too, now spoke in English, halting English, as might one who was long unaccustomed to voicing the language.
“Who are you?” asked Tarzan, “and what are you doing here?”
“It is the same question that I asked you,” replied the old man. “Do not be afraid to answer me. You are evidently an Englishman, and you have nothing to fear from me.”
“I am here after a woman, captured by the Bolgani,” replied Tarzan.
The other nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I know. She is here.”
“Is she safe?” asked Tarzan.
“She has not been harmed. She will be safe until tomorrow or the next day,” replied the old man. “But who are you, and how did you find your way here from the outer world?”
“I am Tarzan of the Apes,” replied the ape-man. “I came into this valley looking for a way out of the valley of Opar where the life of my companion was in danger. And you?”
“I am an old man,” replied the other, “and I have been here ever since I was a boy. I was a stowaway on the ship that brought Stanley to Africa after the establishment of the station on Stanley Pool, and I came into the interior with him. I went out from camp to hunt, alone, one day. I lost my way and later was captured by unfriendly natives. They took me farther into the interior to their village from which I finally escaped, but so utterly confused and lost that I had no idea what direction to take to find a trail to the coast. I wandered thus for months, until finally, upon an accursed day I found an entrance to this valley. I do not know why they did not put me to death at once, but they did not, and later they discovered that my knowledge could be turned to advantage to them. Since then I have helped them in their quarrying and mining and in their diamond cutting. I have given them iron drills with hardened points and drills tipped with diamonds. Now I am practically one of them, but always in my heart has been the hope that some day I might escape from the valley—a hopeless hope, though, I may assure you.”
“There is no way out?” asked Tarzan.
“There is a way, but it is always guarded.”
“Where is it?” queried Tarzan.
“It is a continuation of one of the mine tunnels, passing entirely through the mountain to the valley beyond. The mines have been worked by the ancestors of this race for an almost incalculable length of time. The mountains are honeycombed with their shafts and tunnels. Back of the gold-bearing quartz lies an enormous deposit of altered peridotite, which contains diamonds, in the search for which it evidently became necessary to extend one of the shafts to the opposite side of the mountain, possibly for purposes of ventilation. This tunnel and the trail leading down into Opar are the only means of ingress to the valley. From time immemorial they have kept the tunnel guarded, more particularly, I imagine, to prevent the escape of slaves than to thwart the inroads of an enemy, since they believe that there is no fear of the latter emergency. The trail to Opar they do not guard, because they no longer fear the Oparians, and know quite well that none of their Gomangani slaves would dare enter the valley of the sunworshipers. For the same reason, then, that the slaves cannot escape, we, too, must remain prisoners here forever.”
“How is the tunnel guarded?” asked Tarzan.
“Two Bolgani and a dozen or more Gomangani warriors are always upon duty there,” replied the old man.
“The Gomangani would like to escape?”
“They have tried it many times in the past, I am told,” replied the old man, “though never since I have lived here, and always they were caught and tortured. And all their race was punished and worked the harder because of these attempts upon the part of a few.”
“They are numerous—the Gomangani?”
“There are probably five thousand of them in the valley,” replied the old man.
“And how many Bolgani?” the ape-man asked.
“Between ten and eleven hundred.”
“Five to one,” murmured Tarzan, “and yet they are afraid to attempt to escape.”
“But you must remember,” said the old man, “that the Bolgani are the dominant and intelligent race—the others are intellectually little above the beasts of the forest.”
“Yet they are men,” Tarzan reminded him.
“In figure only,” replied the old man. “They cannot band together as men do. They have not as yet reached the community plane of evolution. It is true that families reside in a single village, but that idea, together with their weapons, was given to them by the Bolgani that they might not be entirely exterminated by the lions and panthers. Formerly, I am told, each individual Gomangani, when he became old enough to hunt for himself, constructed a hut apart from others and took up his solitary life, there being at that time no slightest semblance of family life. Then the Bolgani taught them how to build palisaded villages and compelled the men and women to remain in them and rear their children to maturity, after which the children were required to remain in the village, so that now some of the communities can claim as many as forty or fifty people. But the death rate is high among them, and they cannot multiply as rapidly as people living under normal conditions of peace and security. The brutalities of the Bolgani kill many; the carnivora take a considerable toll.”
“Five to one, and still they remain in slavery—what cowards they must be,” said the ape-man.
“On the contrary, they are far from cowardly,” replied the old man. “They will face a lion with the utmost bravery. But for so many ages have they been subservient to the will of the Bolgani, that it has become a fixed habit in them—as the fear of God is inherent in us, so is the fear of the Bolgani inherent in the minds of the Gomangani from birth.”
“It is interesting,” said Tarzan. “But tell me now where the woman is of whom I have come in search.”
“She is your mate?” asked the old man.
“No,” replied Tarzan. “I told the Gomangani that she was, so that they would protect her. She is La, queen of Opar, High Priestess of the Flaming God.”
The old man looked his incredulity. “Impossible!” he cried. “It cannot be that the queen of Opar has risked her life by coming to the home of her hereditary enemies.”
“She was forced to it,” replied Tarzan, “her life being threatened by a part of her people because she had refused to sacrifice me to their god.”
“If the Bolgani knew this there would be great rejoicing,” replied the old man.
“Tell me where she is,” demanded Tarzan. “She preserved me from her people, and I must save her from whatever fate the Bolgani contemplate for her.”
“It is hopeless,” said the old man. “I can tell you where she is, but you cannot rescue her.”
“I can try,” replied the ape-man.
“But you will fail and die.”
“If what you tell me is true, that there is absolutely no chance of my escaping from the valley, I might as well die,” replied the ape-man. “However, I do not agree with you.”
The old man shrugged. “You do not know the Bolgani,” he said.
“Tell me where the woman is,” said Tarzan.
“Look,” replied the old man, motioning Tarzan to follow him into his apartment, and approaching a window which faced toward the west, he pointed towards a strange flat tower which rose above the roof of the main building near the west end of the palace. “She is probably somewhere in the interior of that tower,” said the old man to Tarzan, “but as far as you are concerned, she might as well be at the north pole.”
Tarzan stood in silence for a moment, his keen eyes taking in every salient detail of the prospect before him. He saw the strange, flat-topped tower, which it seemed to him might be reached from the roof of the main building. He saw, too, branches of the ancient trees that sometimes topped the roof itself, and except for the dim light shining through some of the palace windows he saw no signs of life. He turned suddenly upon the old man.
“I do not know you,” he said, “but I believe that I may trust you, since after all blood ties are strong, and we are the only men of our race in this valley. You might gain something in favor by betraying me, but I cannot believe that you will do it.”
“Do not fear,” said the old man, “I hate them. If I could help you I would, but I know that there is no hope of success for whatever plan you may have in mind—the woman will never be rescued; you will never leave the Valley of the Palace of Diamonds—you will never leave the palace itself unless the Bolgani wish it.”
The ape-man grinned. “You have been here so long,” he said, “that you are beginning to assume the attitude of mind that keeps the Gomangani in perpetual slavery. If you want to escape, come with me. We may not succeed, but at least you will have a better chance if you try than as if you remained forever in this tower.”
The old man shook his head. “No,” he said, “it is hopeless. If escape had been possible I should have been away from here long ago.”
“Good-bye then,” said Tarzan, and swinging out of the window he clambered toward the roof below, along the stout stem of the old ivy.
The old man watched him for a moment until he saw him make his way carefully across the roof toward the flat-topped tower where he hoped to find and liberate La. Then the old fellow turned and hurried rapidly down the crude stairway that rose ladder-like to the center of the tower.
Tarzan made his way across the uneven roof of the main building, clambering up the sides of its higher elevations and dropping again to its lower levels as he covered a considerable distance between the east tower and that flat-topped structure of peculiar design in which La was supposed to be incarcerated. His progress was slow, for he moved with the caution of a beast of prey, stopping often in dense shadows to listen.
When at last he reached the tower, he found that it had many openings letting upon the roof—openings which were closed only with hangings of the heavy tapestried stuff which he had seen in the tower. Drawing one of these slightly aside he looked within upon a large chamber, bare of furnishings, from the center of which there protruded through a circular aperture the top of a stairway similar to that he had ascended in the east tower. There was no one in sight within the chamber, and Tarzan crossed immediately to the stairway. Peering cautiously into the opening Tarzan saw that the stairway descended for a great distance, passing many floors. How far it went he could not judge, except it seemed likely that it pierced subterranean chambers beneath the palace. Sounds of life came up to him through the shaft, and odors, too, but the latter largely nullified, in so far as the scent impressions which they offered Tarzan were concerned, by the heavy incense which pervaded the entire palace.
It was this perfume that was to prove the ape-man’s undoing, for otherwise his keen nostrils would have detected the scent of a near-by Gomangani. The fellow lay behind one of the hangings at an aperture in the tower wall. He had been lying in such a position that he had seen Tarzan enter the chamber, and he was watching him now as the ape-man stood looking down the shaft of the stairway. The eyes of the black had at first gone wide in terror at sight of this strange apparition, the like of which he had never seen before. Had the creature been of sufficient intelligence to harbor superstition, he would have thought Tarzan a god descended from above. But being of too low an order to possess any imagination whatsoever, he merely knew that he saw a strange creature, and that all strange creatures must be enemies, he was convinced. His duty was to apprise his masters of this presence in the palace, but he did not dare to move until the apparition had reached a sufficient distance from him to insure that the movements of the Gomangani would not be noticed by the intruder—he did not care to call attention to himself, for he had found that the more one effaced oneself in the presence of the Bolgani, the less one was likely to suffer. For a long time the stranger peered down the shaft of the stairway, and for a long time the Gomangani lay quietly watching him. But at last the former descended the stairs and passed out of sight of the watcher, who immediately leaped to his feet and scurried away across the roof of the palace toward a large tower arising at its western end.
As Tarzan descended the ladder the fumes of the incense became more and more annoying. Where otherwise he might have investigated quickly by scent he was now compelled to listen for every sound, and in many cases to investigate the chambers opening upon the central corridor by entering them. Where the doors were locked, he lay flat and listened close to the aperture at their base. On several occasions he risked calling La by name, but in no case did he receive any reply.
He had investigated four landings and was descending to the fifth when he saw standing in one of the doorways upon this level an evidently much excited and possibly terrified black. The fellow was of giant proportions and entirely unarmed. He stood looking at the ape-man with wide eyes as the latter jumped lightly from the stairway and stood facing him upon the same level.
“What do you want?” finally stammered the black. “Are you looking for the white she, your mate, whom the Bolgani took?”
“Yes,” replied Tarzan. “What do you know of her?”
“I know where she is hidden,” replied the black, “and if you will follow me I will lead you to her.”
“Why do you offer to do this for me?” asked Tarzan, immediately suspicious. “Why is it that you do not go at once to your masters and tell them that I am here that they may send men to capture me?”
“I do not know the reason that I was sent to tell you this,” replied the black. “The Bolgani sent me. I did not wish to come for I was afraid.”
“Where did they tell you to lead me?” asked Tarzan.
“I am to lead you into a chamber, the door of which will be immediately bolted upon us. You will then be a prisoner.”
“And you?” inquired Tarzan.
“I, too, shall be a prisoner with you. The Bolgani do not care what becomes of me. Perhaps you will kill me, but they do not care.”
“If you lead me into a trap I shall kill you,” replied Tarzan. “But if you lead me to the woman perhaps we shall all escape. You would like to escape, would you not?”
“I should like to escape, but I cannot.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“No, I have not. Why should I try to do something that cannot be done?”
“If you lead me into the trap I shall surely kill you. If you lead me to the woman, you at least have the chance that I do to live. Which will you do?”
The black scratched his head in thought, the idea slowly filtering through his stupid mind. At last he spoke.
“You are very wise,” he said. “I will lead you to the woman.”
“Go ahead, then,” said Tarzan, “and I will follow you.”
The black descended to the next level and opening the door entered a long, straight corridor. As the ape-man followed his guide he had leisure to reflect upon the means through which the Bolgani had learned of his presence in the tower, and the only conclusion he could arrive at was that the old man had betrayed him, since in so far as Tarzan was aware he alone knew that the ape-man was in the palace. The corridor along which the black was leading him was very dark, receiving a dim and inadequate illumination from the dimly lighted corridor they had just left, the door into which remained open behind them. Presently the black stopped, before a closed door.
“The woman is in there,” said the black, pointing to the door.
“She is alone?” asked Tarzan.
“No,” replied the black. “Look,” and he opened the door, revealing a heavy hanging, which he gently separated, revealing to Tarzan the interior of the chamber beyond.
Seizing the black by the wrist, that he might not escape, Tarzan stepped forward and put his eyes to the aperture. Before him lay a large chamber, at one end of which was a raised dais, the base of which was of a dark, ornately carved wood. The central figure upon this dais was a huge, black-maned lion—the same that Tarzan had seen escorted through the gardens of the palace. His golden chains were now fastened to rings in the floor, while the four blacks stood in statuesque rigidity, two upon either side of the beast. Upon golden thrones behind the lion sat three magnificently ornamented Bolgani. At the foot of the steps leading to the stair stood La, between two Gomangani guards. Upon either side of a central aisle were carved benches facing the dais, and occupying the front section of these were some fifty Bolgani, among whom Tarzan almost immediately espied the little, old man that he had met in the tower, the sight of whom instantly crystallized the ape-man’s conviction of the source of his betrayal.
The chamber was lighted by hundreds of cressets, burning a substance which gave forth both light and the heavy incense that had assailed Tarzan’s nostrils since first he entered the domain of the Bolgani. The long, cathedralesque windows upon one side of the apartment were thrown wide, admitting the soft air of the jungle summer night. Through them Tarzan could see the palace grounds and that this chamber was upon the same level as the terrace upon which the palace stood. Beyond those windows was an open gate-way to the jungle and freedom, but interposed between him and the windows were fifty armed gorilla-men. Perhaps, then, strategy would be a better weapon than force with which to carve his way to freedom with La. Yet to the forefront of his mind was evidently a belief in the probability that in the end it would be force rather than strategy upon which he must depend. He turned to the black at his side.
“Would the Gomangani guarding the lion like to escape from the Bolgani?” he asked.
“The Gomangani would all escape if they could,” replied the black.
“If it is necessary for me to enter the room, then,” said Tarzan to the black, “will you accompany me and tell the other Gomangani that if they will fight for me I will take them out of the valley?”
“I will tell them, but they will not believe,” replied the black.
“Tell them that they will die if they do not help me, then,” said Tarzan.
“I will tell them.”
As Tarzan turned his attention again to the chamber before him he saw that the Bolgani occupying the central golden throne was speaking.
“Nobles of Numa, King of Beasts, Emperor of All Created Things,” he said in deep, growling tones, “Numa has heard the words that this she has spoken, and it is the will of Numa that she die. The Great Emperor is hungry. He, himself, will devour her here in the presence of his Nobles and the Imperial Council of Three. It is the will of Numa.”
A growl of approval arose from the beast-like audience, while the great lion bared his hideous fangs and roared until the palace trembled, his wicked, yellow-green eyes fixed terribly upon the woman before him, evidencing the fact that these ceremonies were of sufficient frequency to have accustomed the lion to what he might expect as the logical termination of them.
“Day after tomorrow,” continued the speaker, “the mate of this creature, who is by this time safely imprisoned in the Tower of the Emperors, will be brought before Numa for judgment. Slaves,” he cried suddenly in a loud voice, rising to his feet and glaring at the guards holding La, “drag the woman to your emperor.”
Instantly the lion became frantic, lashing its tail and straining at its stout chains, roaring and snarling as it reared upon its hind feet and sought to leap upon La, who was now being forcibly conducted up the steps of the dais toward the bejeweled man-eater so impatiently awaiting her.
She did not cry out in terror, but she sought to twist herself free from the detaining hands of the powerful Gomangani—all futilely, however.
They had reached the last step, and were about to push La into the claws of the lion, when they were arrested by a loud cry from one side of the chamber—a cry that halted the Gomangani and brought the assembled Bolgani to their feet in astonishment and anger, for the sight that met their eyes was well qualified to arouse the latter within them. Leaping into the room with raised spear was the almost naked white man of whom they had heard, but whom none of them had as yet seen. And so quick was he that in the very instant of entry—even before they could rise to their feet—he had launched his spear.
A BLACK-MANED lion moved through the jungle night. With majestic unconcern for all other created things he took his lordly way through the primeval forest. He was not hunting, for he made no efforts toward stealth, nor, on the other hand, did he utter any vocal sound. He moved swiftly, though sometimes stopping with uplifted nose to scent the air and to listen. And thus at last he came to a high wall, along the face of which he sniffed, until the wall was broken by a half-opened gateway, through which he passed into the enclosure.
Before him loomed a great building, and presently as he stood watching it and listening, there broke from the interior the thunderous roar of an angry lion.
He of the black mane cocked his head upon one side and moved stealthily forward.
At the very instant that La was about to be thrust into the clutches of Numa, Tarzan of the Apes leaped into the apartment with a loud cry that brought to momentary pause the Gomangani that were dragging her to her doom, and in that brief instant of respite which the ape-man knew would follow his interruption the swift spear was launched. To the rage and consternation of the Bolgani they saw it bury itself in the heart of their Emperor—the great, black-maned lion.
At Tarzan’s side stood the Gomangani whom he had terrified into service, and as Tarzan rushed forward toward La the black accompanied him, crying to his fellows that if they would help this stranger they might be free and escape from the Bolgani forever.
“You have permitted the great Emperor to be slain,” he cried to the poor Gomangani who guarded Numa. “For this the Bolgani will kill you. Help to save the strange Tarmangani and his mate and you have at least a chance for life and freedom. And you,” he added, addressing the two who had been guarding La, “they will hold you responsible also—your only hope lies with us.”
Tarzan had reached La’s side and was dragging her up the steps of the dais where he hoped that he might make a momentary stand against the fifty Bolgani who were now rushing forward from their seats toward him.
“Slay the three who sit upon the dais,” cried Tarzan to the Gomangani, who were now evidently hesitating as to which side they would cast their lot with. “Slay them if you wish your freedom! Slay them if you wish to live!”
The authoritative tones of his voice, the magnetic appeal of his personality, his natural leadership won them to him for the brief instant that was necessary to turn them upon the hated authority that the three Bolgani upon the dais represented, and as they drove their spears into the shaggy black bodies of their masters they became then and forever the creatures of Tarzan of the Apes, for there could be no future hope for them in the land of the Bolgani.
With one arm around La’s waist the ape-man carried her to the summit of the dais, where he seized his spear and drew it from the body of the dead lion. Then, turning about, and facing the advancing Bolgani, he placed one foot upon the carcass of his kill and raised his voice in the terrifying victory cry of the apes of Kerchak.
Before him the Bolgani paused, behind him the Gomangani quailed in terror.
“Stop!” cried Tarzan, raising a palm toward the Bolgani. “Listen! I am Tarzan of the Apes. I sought no quarrel with your people. I but look for a passage through your country to my own. Let me go my way in peace with this woman, taking these Gomangani with me.”
For answer a chorus of savage growls arose from the Bolgani as they started forward again toward the dais. From their ranks there suddenly leaped the old man of the east tower, who ran swiftly toward Tarzan.
“Ah, traitor,” cried the ape-man, “you would be the first, then, to taste the wrath of Tarzan?” He spoke in English and the old man replied ill the same tongue.
“Traitor?” he exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, traitor,” thundered Tarzan. “Did you not hurry here to tell the Bolgani that I was in the palace, that they might send the Gomangani to lure me to a trap?”
“I did nothing of the kind,” replied the other. “I came here to place myself near the white woman, with the thought that I might be of service to her or you if I were needed. I come now, Englishman, to stand at your side and die at your side, for die you shall, as sure as there is a God in heaven. Nothing can save you now from the wrath of the Bolgani whose Emperor you have killed.”
“Come, then,” cried Tarzan, “and prove your loyalty. It were better to die now than to live in slavery forever.”
The six Gomangani had ranged themselves, three upon either side of Tarzan and La, while the seventh, who had entered the chamber with Tarzan unarmed, was taking weapons from the body of one of the three Bolgani who had been slain upon the dais.
AFTER Esteban and Owaza had buried the gold they returned to the spot where they had left their five boys, and proceeding with them to the river made camp for the night. Here they discussed their plans, deciding to abandon the balance of the party to reach the coast as best they might, while they returned to another section of the coast where they could recruit sufficient porters to carry out the gold.
“Instead of going way back to the coast for porters,” asked Esteban, “why could we not just as well recruit them from the nearest village?”
“Such men would not go with us way to the coast,” replied Owaza. “They are not porters. At best they would but carry our gold to the next village.”
“Why not that, then?” inquired the Spaniard. “And at the next village we could employ porters to carry us on still farther, until we could employ other men to continue on with us.”
Owaza shook his head. “It is a good plan, Bwana, but we cannot do it, because we have nothing with which to pay our porters.”
Esteban scratched his head. “You are right,” he said, “but it would save us that damnable trip to the coast and return.” They sat for some moments in silence, thinking. “I have it!” at last exclaimed the Spaniard. “Even if we had the porters now we could not go directly to the coast for fear of meeting Flora Hawkes’s party—we must let them get out of Africa before we take the gold to the coast. Two months will be none too long to wait, for they are going to have a devil of a time getting to the coast at all with that bunch of mutinous porters. While we are waiting, therefore, let us take one of the ingots of gold to the nearest point at which we can dispose of it for trade goods. Then we can return and hire porters to carry it from village to village.”
“The Bwana speaks words of wisdom,” replied Owaza. “It is not as far to the nearest trading post as it is back to the coast, and thus we shall not only save time, but also many long, hard marches.”
“In the morning, then, we shall return and unearth one of the ingots, but we must be sure that none of your men accompanies us, for no one must know until it is absolutely necessary where the gold is buried. When we return for it, of course, then others must know, too, but inasmuch as we shall be with it constantly thereafter there will be little danger of its being taken from us.”
And so upon the following morning the Spaniard and Owaza returned to the buried treasure, where they unearthed a single ingot.
Before he left the spot the Spaniard drew upon the inner surface of the leopard skin that he wore across his shoulder an accurate map of the location of the treasure, making the drawing with a sharpened stick, dipped in the blood of a small rodent he had killed for the purpose. From Owaza he obtained the native names of the river and of such landmarks as were visible from the spot at which the treasure was buried, together with as explicit directions as possible for reaching the place from the coast. This information, too, he wrote below the map, and when he had finished he felt much relieved from the fear that should aught befall Owaza he might never be able to locate the gold.
When Jane Clayton reached the coast to take passage for London she found awaiting her a wire stating that her father was entirely out of danger, and that there was no necessity for her coming to him. She, therefore, after a few days of rest, turned her face again toward home, and commenced to retrace the steps of the long, hot, weary journey that she had just completed. When, finally, she arrived at the bungalow she learned, to her consternation, that Tarzan of the Apes had not yet returned from his expedition to the city of Opar after the gold from the treasure vaults. She found Korak, evidently much exercised, but unwilling to voice a doubt as to the ability of his father to care for himself. She learned of the escape of the golden lion with regret, for she knew that Tarzan had become much attached to the noble beast.
It was the second day after her return that the Waziri who had accompanied Tarzan returned without him. Then, indeed, was her heart filled with fear for her lord and master. She questioned the men carefully, and when she learned from them that Tarzan had suffered another accident that had again affected his memory, she immediately announced that she would set out on the following day in search of him, commanding the Waziri who had just returned to accompany her.
Korak attempted to dissuade her, but failing in that insisted upon accompanying her.
“We must not all be away at once,” she said. “You remain here, my son. If I fail I shall return and let you go.”
“I cannot let you go alone, Mother,” replied Korak.
“I am not alone when the Waziri are with me,” she laughed. “And you know perfectly well, boy, that I am as safe anywhere in the heart of Africa with them as I am here at the ranch.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose so,” he replied, “but I wish I might go, or that Meriem were here.”
“Yes, I, too, wish that Meriem were here,” replied Lady Greystoke. “However, do not worry. You know that my jungle-craft, while not equal to that of Tarzan or Korak, is by no means a poor asset, and that, surrounded by the loyalty and bravery of the Waziri, I shall be safe.”
“I suppose you are right,” replied Korak, “but I do not like to see you go without me.”
And so, notwithstanding his objections, Jane Clayton set out the next morning with fifty Waziri warriors in search of her savage mate.
When Esteban and Owaza had not returned to camp as they had promised, the other members of the party were at first inclined to anger, which was later replaced by concern, not so much for the safety of the Spaniard but for fear that Owaza might have met with an accident and would not return to take them in safety to the coast, for of all the blacks he alone seemed competent to handle the surly and mutinous carriers. The negroes scouted the idea that Owaza had become lost and were more inclined to the opinion that he and Esteban had deliberately deserted them. Luvini, who acted as head-man in Owaza’s absence, had a theory of his own.
“Owaza and the Bwana have gone after the ivory raiders alone. By trickery they may accomplish as much as we could have accomplished by force, and there will only be two among whom to divide the ivory.”
“But how may two men overcome a band of raiders?” inquired Flora, skeptically.
“You do not know Owaza,” answered Luvini. “If he can gain the ears of their slaves he will win them over, and when the Arabs see that he who accompanies Owaza and who fights at the head of the mutinous slaves is Tarzan of the Apes, they will flee in terror.”
“I believe he is right,” muttered Kraski, “it sounds just like the Spaniard,” and then suddenly he turned upon Luvini. “Can you lead us to the raiders’ camp?” he demanded.
“Yes,” replied the negro.
“Good,” exclaimed Kraski; “and now, Flora, what do you think of this plan? Let us send a swift runner to the raiders, warning them against Owaza and the Spaniard, and telling them that the latter is not Tarzan of the Apes, but an impostor. We can ask them to capture and hold the two until we come, and after we arrive we can make such further plans as the circumstances permit. Very possibly we can carry out our original design after we have once entered their camp as friends.”
“Yes, that sounds good,” replied Flora, “and it is certainly crooked enough—just like you, yourself.”
The Russian blushed. “ ‘Birds of a feather’—” he quoted.
The girl shrugged her shoulders indifferently, but Bluber, who, with Peebles and Throck, had been silent listeners to the conversation, blustered.
“Vot do you mean birds vit fedders?” he demanded. “Who vas a crook? I tell you, Mister Carl Kraski, I am an honest man, dot is von t’ing dot no man don’t say about Adolph Bluber, he is a crook.”
“O shut up,” snapped Kraski, “if there’s anything in it you’ll be for it—if there’s no risk. These fellows stole the ivory themselves, and killed a lot of people, probably, to do it. In addition they have taken slaves, which we will free.”
“O vell,” said Bluber, “if it is fair und eqvitable, vy, all right, but just remember, Mister Kraski, dot I am an honest man.”
“Blime!” exclaimed Throck, “we’re all honest; I’ve never seen such a downy bunch of parsons in all me life.”
“Sure we’re honest,” roared John Peebles, “and anyone ’at says we ain’t gets ’is bally ’ead knocked off, and ’ere we are, ’n that’s that.”
The girl smiled wearily. “You can always tell honest men,” she said. “They go around telling the world how honest they are. But never mind that; the thing now is to decide whether we want to follow Kraski’s suggestion or not. It’s something we’ve got all pretty well to agree upon before we undertake it. There are five of us. Let’s leave it to a vote. Do we, or don’t we?”
“Will the men accompany us?” asked Kraski, turning to Luvini.
“If they are promised a share of the ivory they will,” replied the black.
“How many are in favor of Carl’s plan?” asked Flora.
They were unanimously for it, and so it was decided that they would undertake the venture, and a half hour later a runner was despatched on the trail to the raiders’ camp with a message for the raider chief. Shortly after, the party broke camp and took up its march in the same direction.
A week later, when they reached the camp of the raiders they found that their messenger had arrived safely and that they were expected. Esteban and Owaza had not put in an appearance nor had anything been seen or heard of them in the vicinity. The result was that the Arabs were inclined to be suspicious and surly, fearing that the message: brought to them had been but a ruse to permit this considerable body of whites and armed blacks to enter their stockade in safety.
Jane Clayton and her Waziri moving rapidly, picked up the spoor of Flora Hawkes’s safari at the camp where the Waziri had last seen Esteban, whom they still thought to have been Tarzan of the Apes. Following the plainly marked trail, and moving much more rapidly than the Hawkes safari, Jane and the Waziri made camp within a mile of the ivory raiders only about a week after the Hawkes party had arrived and where they still remained, waiting either for the coming of Owaza and Esteban, or for a propitious moment in which they could launch their traitorous assault upon the Arabs. In the meantime, Luvini and some of the other blacks had succeeded in secretly spreading the propaganda of revolt among the slaves of the Arabs. Though he reported his progress daily to Flora Hawkes, he did not report the steady growth and development of a little private plan of his own, which contemplated, in addition to the revolt of the slaves, and the slaying of the Arabs, the murder of all the whites in the camp, with the exception of Flora Hawkes, whom Luvini wished to preserve either for himself or for sale to some black sultan of the north. It was Luvini’s shrewd plan to first slay the Arabs, with the assistance of the whites, and then to fall upon the whites and slay them, after their body servants had stolen their weapons from them.
That Luvini would have been able to carry out his plan with ease there is little doubt, had it not been for the loyalty and affection of a young black boy attached to Flora Hawkes for her personal service.
The young white woman, notwithstanding the length to which she would go in the satisfaction of her greed and avarice, was a kind and indulgent mistress. The kindnesses she had shown this ignorant little black boy were presently to return her dividends far beyond her investment.
Luvini had been to her upon a certain afternoon to advise her that all was ready, and that the revolt of the slaves and the murder of the Arabs should take place that evening, immediately after dark. The cupidity of the whites had long been aroused by the store of ivory possessed by the raiders, with the result that all were more than eager for the final step in the conspiracy that would put them in possession of considerable wealth.
It was just before the evening meal that the little negro boy crept into Flora Hawkes’s tent. He was very wide-eyed, and terribly frightened.
“What is the matter?” she demanded.
“S-sh!” he cautioned. “Do not let them hear you speak to me, but put your ear close to me while I tell you in a low voice what Luvini is planning.”
The girl bent her head close to the lips of the little black. “You have been kind to me,” he whispered, “and now that Luvini would harm you I have come to tell you.”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Flora, in a low voice.
“I mean that Luvini, after the Arabs are killed, has given orders that the black boys kill all the white men and take you prisoner. He intends to either keep you for himself or to sell you in the north for a great sum of money.”
“But how do you know all this?” demanded the girl.
“All the blacks in camp know it,” replied the boy. “I was to have stolen your rifle and your pistol, as each of the boys will steal the weapons of his white master.”
The girl sprang to her feet. “I’ll teach that nigger a lesson,” she cried, seizing her pistol and striding toward the flap of the tent.
The boy seized her about the knees and held her. “No! no!” he cried. “Do not do it. Do not say anything. It will only mean that they will kill the white men sooner and take you prisoner just the same. Every black boy in the camp is against you. Luvini has promised that the ivory shall be divided equally among them all. They are ready now, and if you should threaten Luvini, or if in any other way they should learn that you were aware of the plot, they would fall upon you immediately.”
“What do you expect me to do then?” she asked.
“There is but one hope, and that is in flight. You and the white men must escape into the jungle. Not even I may accompany you.”
The girl stood looking at the little boy in silence for a moment, and then finally she said, “Very well, I will do as you say. You have saved my life. Perhaps I may never be able to repay you, and perhaps, again, I may. Go, now, before suspicion alights upon you.”
The black withdrew from the tent, crawling beneath the back wall to avoid being seen by any of his fellows who were in the center of the camp from which the front of the tent was in plain view. Immediately he was gone Flora walked casually into the open and went to Kraski’s tent, which the Russian occupied in common with Bluber. She found the two men and in low whispers apprised them of what the black had told her. Kraski then called Peebles and Throck, it being decided that they should give no outward sign of holding any suspicion that aught was wrong. The Englishmen were for jumping in upon the blacks and annihilating them, but Flora Hawkes dissuaded them from any such rash act by pointing out how greatly they were outnumbered by the natives, and how hopeless it would be to attempt to overpower them.
Bluber, with his usual cunning and shrewdness which inclined always to double dealing where there was the slightest possibility for it, suggested that they secretly advise the Arabs of what they had learned, and joining forces with them take up as strong a position in the camp as possible and commence to fire into the blacks without waiting for their attack.
Again Flora Hawkes vetoed the suggestion. “It will not do,” she said, “for the Arabs are at heart as much our enemies as the blacks. If we were successful in subduing the niggers it would be but a question of minutes before the Arabs knew every detail of the plot that we had laid against them, after which our lives would not be worth that,” and she snapped her fingers.
“I guess Flora is right, as usual,” growled Peebles, “but what in ’ell are we goin’ to do wanderin’ around in this ’ere jungle without no niggers to hunt for us, or cook for us, or carry things for us, or find our way for us, that’s wot I’d like to know, and ’ere we are, ’n that’s that.”
“No, I guess there ain’t nothin’ else to do,” said Throck; “but blime if I likes to run away, says I, leastwise not for no dirty niggers.”
There came then to the ears of the whites, rumbling from the far distance in the jungle, the roar of a lion.
“Oi! Oi!” cried Bluber. “Ve go out all alone in dot jungle? Mein Gott! I just as soon stay here und get killed like a vite man.”
“They won’t kill you like a white man,” said Kraski. “They’ll torture you if you stay.”
Bluber wrung his hands, and the sweat of fear rolled down his oily face. “Oi! vy did I done it? vy did I done it?” he wailed. “Vy didn’t I stay home in London vere I belong?”
“Shut up!” snapped Flora. “Don’t you know that if you do anything to arouse the suspicion of these fellows they will be on us at once? There is only one thing for us to do and that is to wait until they precipitate the attack upon the Arabs. We will still have our weapons, for they do not plan to steal them from us until after the Arabs are killed. In the confusion of the fight, we must make our escape into the jungle, and after that—God knows—and God help us.”
“Yes,” blubbered Bluber, who was in a blue funk, “Gott help us!”
A moment later Luvini came to them. “All is ready, Bwanas,” he said. “As soon as the evening meal has been eaten, be in readiness. You will hear a shot, that will be the signal. Then open fire upon the Arabs.”
“Good,” said Kraski; “we have just been talking about it and we have decided that we will take our stand near the gate to prevent their escape.”
“It is well,” said Luvini, “but you must remain here.” He was addressing Flora. “It would not be safe for you to be where there is to be fighting. Remain here in your tent, and we will confine the fighting to the other side of the village and possibly to the gate, if any of them makes a break for escape.”
“All right,” said Flora, “I will remain here where it is safe.”
Satisfied that things could not have worked into his hands to better advantage the black left them, and presently the entire camp was occupied with the evening meal. There was an atmosphere of restraint, and high, nervous tension throughout the entire camp that must have been noticeable, even to the Arabs, though they, alone of the entire company, were ignorant as to its cause. Bluber was so terrified that he could not eat, but sat white and trembling with his eyes roving wildly about the camp—first to the blacks, then to the Arabs, and then to the gate, the distance to which he must have measured a hundred times as he sat there waiting for the shot that was to be the signal for the massacre that was to send him out into the jungle to be, he surely thought, the immediate prey of the first hunting lion that passed.
Peebles and Throck ate their meal stolidly, much to Bluber’s disgust. Kraski, being of a highly nervous temperament, ate but little, but he showed no signs of fear. Nor did Flora Hawkes, though at heart she realized the hopelessness of their situation.
Darkness had fallen. Some of the blacks and Arabs were still eating, when suddenly the silence was shattered by the sharp staccato report of a rifle. An Arab sank silently to the earth. Kraski rose and grasped Flora by the arm. “Come!” he cried.
Followed by Peebles and Throck, and preceded by Bluber, to whose feet fright had lent wings, they hurried toward the gate of the palisade.
By now the air was filled with the hoarse cries of fighting men and the report of rifles. The Arabs, who had numbered but about a dozen, were putting up a game fight, and being far better marksmen than the blacks, the issue of the battle was still in doubt when Kraski opened the gate and the five whites fled into the darkness of the jungle.
The outcome of the fight within the camp could not have been other than it was, for so greatly did the blacks outnumber the Arabs, that eventually, notwithstanding their poor marksmanship, they succeeded in shooting down the last of the nomads of the north. Then it was that Luvini turned his attention to the other whites only to discover that they had fled the village. The black realized two things instantly. One was that someone had betrayed him, and the other, that the whites could not have gone far in the short time since they had left the camp.
Calling his warriors about him he explained to them what had happened, and impressing upon them that the whites, if permitted to escape, would eventually return with reinforcements to punish the blacks, he aroused his followers, who now numbered over two hundred warriors, to the necessity of setting out immediately upon the trail of the fugitives and overtaking them before they could carry word even to a neighboring village, the nearest of which was not more than a day’s march distant.
AS the primitive smoke bombs filled the throne room of the Tower of the Emperors with their suffocating fumes, the Gomangani clustered about Tarzan begging him to save them, for they, too, had seen the massed Bolgani before every entrance and the great body of them that awaited in the gardens and upon the terrace without.
“Wait a minute,” said Tarzan, “until the smoke is thick enough to hide our movements from the Bolgani, and then we will rush the windows overlooking the terrace, for they are nearer the east gate than any other exit, and thus some of us will have a better chance for escape.”
“I have a better plan,” said the old man. “When the smoke conceals us, follow me. There is one exit that is unguarded, probably because they do not dream that we would use it. When I passed over the dais behind the throne I took occasion to note that there were no Bolgani guarding it.”
“Where does it lead?” asked Tarzan.
“Into the basement of the Tower of Diamonds—the tower in which I discovered you. That portion of the palace is nearest to the east gate, and if we can reach it before they suspect our purpose there will be little doubt that we can reach the forest at least.”
“Splendid!” ejaculated the ape-man. “It will not be long now before the smoke hides us from the Bolgani.”
In fact it was so thick by this time that the occupants of the throne room were finding difficulty in breathing. Many of them were coughing and choking and the eyes of all were watering from the effects of the acrid smoke. And yet they were not entirely hidden from the observation of the watchers all about them.
“I don’t know how much more of this we can stand,” said Tarzan. “I have about all I care for, now.”
“It is thickening up a bit,” said the old man. “Just a moment more and I think we can make it unseen.”
“I can stand it no longer,” cried La. “I am suffocating and I am half-blinded.”
“Very well,” said the old man; “I doubt if they can see us now. It is pretty thick. Come, follow me;” and he led the way up the steps of the dais and through an aperture behind the thrones—a small opening hidden by hangings. The old man went first, and then La, followed by Tarzan and Jad-bal-ja, who had about reached the limit of his endurance and patience, so that it had been with difficulty that Tarzan had restrained him, and who now was voicing his anger in deep growls which might have apprised the Bolgani of their avenue of escape. Behind Tarzan and the lion crowded the coughing Gomangani; but because Jad-bal-ja was just in front of them they did not crowd as closely upon the party ahead of them as they probably would have done otherwise.
The aperture opened into a dark corridor which led down a flight of rough steps to a lower level, and then straight through utter darkness for the rather considerable distance which separated the Tower of Diamonds from the Tower of the Emperors. So great was their relief at escaping the dense smoke of the throne room that none of the party minded the darkness of the corridor, but followed patiently the lead of the old man who had explained that the first stairs down which they had passed were the only obstacles to be encountered in the tunnel.
At the corridor’s end the old man halted before a heavy door, which after considerable difficulty he managed to open.
“Wait a moment,” he said, “until I find a cresset and make a light.”
They heard him moving about beyond the doorway for a moment and then a dim light flared, and presently the wick in a cresset flickered. In the dim rays Tarzan saw before them a large rectangular chamber, the great size of which was only partially suggested in the wavering light of the cresset.
“Get them all in,” said the old man, “and close the door;” and when that had been done he called to Tarzan. “Come!” he said. “Before we leave this chamber I want to show you such a sight as no other human eyes have ever rested upon.”
He led him to the far side of the chamber where, in the light of the cresset, Tarzan saw tier after tier of shelves, upon which were stacked small sacks made of skins. The old man set the cresset upon one of the shelves and taking a sack opened it and spilled a portion of the contents into the palm of his hand. “Diamonds,” he said. “Each of these packages weighs five pounds and each contains diamonds. They have been accumulating them for countless ages, for they mine far more than they can use themselves. In their legends is the belief that some day the Atlantians will return and they can sell the diamonds to them. And so they continue to mine them and store them as though there was a constant and ready market for them. Here, take one of the bags with you,” he said. He handed one to Tarzan and another to La.
“I do not believe that we shall ever leave the valley alive, but we might;” and he took a third bag for himself.
From the diamond vault the old man led them up a primitive ladder to the floor above, and quickly to the main entrance of the Tower. Only two heavy doors, bolted upon the inside, now lay between them and the terrace, a short distance beyond which the east gate swung open. The old man was about to open the doors when Tarzan stopped him.
“Wait a moment,” he said, “until the rest of the Gomangani come. It takes them some time to ascend the ladder. When they are all here behind us, swing the doors open, and you and La, with this ten or a dozen Gomangani that are immediately around us, make a break for the gate. The rest of us will bring up the rear and hold the Bolgani off in case they attack us. Get ready,” he added a moment later, “I think they are all up.”
Carefully Tarzan explained to the Gomangani the plan he had in mind, and then, turning to the old man, he commanded “Now!” The bolt slipped, the doors swung open, and simultaneously the entire party started at a run toward the east gate.
The Bolgani, who were still massed about the throne room, were not aware that their victims had eluded them until Tarzan, bringing up the rear with Jad-bal-ja was passing through the east gate. Then the Bolgani discovered him, and immediately set up a hue and cry that brought several hundred of them on a mad run in pursuit.
“Here they come,” cried Tarzan to the others, “make a run of it—straight down the valley toward Opar, La.”
“And you?” demanded the young woman.
“I shall remain a moment with the Gomangani, and attempt to punish these fellows.”
La stopped in her tracks. “I shall not go a step without you, Tarzan of the Apes,” she said. “Too great already are the risks you have taken for me. No; I shall not go without you.”
The ape-man shrugged. “As you will,” he said. “Here they come.”
With great difficulty he rallied a portion of the Gomangani who, once through the gate, seemed imbued but with a single purpose, and that to put as much distance between the Palace of Diamonds and themselves as possible. Perhaps fifty warriors rallied to his call, and with these he stood in the gateway toward which several hundred Bolgani were now charging.
The old man came and touched Tarzan on the arm. “You had better fly,” he said. “The Gomangani will break and run at the first assault.”
“We will gain nothing by flying,” said Tarzan, “for we should only lose what we have gained with the Gomangani, and then we should have the whole valley about us like hornets.”
He had scarcely finished speaking when one of the Gomangani cried: “Look! Look! They come;” and pointed along the trail into the forest.
“And just in time, too,” remarked Tarzan, as he saw the first of a swarm of Gomangani pouring out of the forest toward the east gate. “Come!” he cried to the advancing blacks, “the Bolgani are upon us. Come, and avenge your wrongs!” Then he turned, and calling to the blacks around him, leaped forward to meet the onrushing gorilla-men. Behind them wave after wave of Gomangani rolled through the east gate of the Palace of Diamonds, carrying everything before them to break at last like surf upon the wavering wall of Bolgani that was being relentlessly hurled back against the palace walls.
The shouting and the fighting and the blood worked Jad-bal-ja into such a frenzy of excitement that Tarzan with difficulty restrained him from springing upon friend and foe alike, with the result that it required so much of the ape-man’s time to hold in leash his ferocious ally that he was able to take but little part in the battle, yet he saw that it was going his way, and that, but for the occurrence of some untoward event, the complete defeat of the Bolgani was assured.
Nor were his deductions erroneous. So frantic were the Gomangani with the blood-lust of revenge and so enthused by the first fruits of victory, that they went fully as mad as Jad-bal-ja himself. They neither gave nor asked quarter, and the fighting ended only when they could find no more Bolgani to slay.
The fighting over, Tarzan, with La and the old man, returned to the throne room, from which the fumes of the smoke bombs had now disappeared. To them they summoned the head-man of each village, and when they had assembled before the dais, above which stood the three whites, with the great, black-maned lion Jad-bal-ja, Tarzan addressed them.
FLORA HAWKES and her four confederates, pursued by Luvini and his two hundred warriors, stumbled through the darkness of the jungle night. They had no objective, for, guided entirely as they had been by the blacks, they knew not where they were and were completely lost. The sole idea dominating the mind of each was to put as much distance between themselves and the camp of the ivory raiders as possible, for no matter what the outcome of the battle there might have been, their fate would be the same should the victorious party capture them. They had stumbled on for perhaps half an hour when, during a momentary rest, they heard plainly behind them the sound of pursuit, and again they plunged on in their aimless flight of terror.
Presently, to their surprise, they discerned the glow of a light ahead. What could it be? Had they made a complete circle, and was this again the camp they had been fleeing? They pushed on to reconnoiter, until at last they saw before them the outlines of a camp surrounded by a thorn boma, in the center of which was burning a small camp-fire. About the fire were congregated half-a-hundred black warriors, and as the fugitives crept closer they saw among the blacks a figure standing out clearly in the light of the camp-fire—a white woman—and behind them rose louder and louder the sound of pursuit.
From the gestures and gesticulations of the blacks around the camp-fire it was evident that they were discussing the sounds of the battle they had recently heard in the direction of the raiders’ camp, for they often pointed in that direction, and now the woman raised her hand for silence and they all listened, and it was evident that they, too, heard the coming of the warriors who were pursuing Flora Hawkes and her confederates.
“There is a white woman there,” said Flora to the others. “We do not know who she is, but she is our only hope, for those who are pursuing us will overtake us quickly. Perhaps this woman will protect us. Come, I am going to find out;” and without waiting for an answer she walked boldly toward the boma.
They had come but a short distance when the keen eyes of the Waziri discovered them, and instantly the boma wall was ringed with bristling spears.
“Stop!” cried one of the warriors. “We are the Waziri of Tarzan. Who are you?”
“I am an Englishwoman,” called Flora in reply. “I and my companions are lost in the jungle. We have been betrayed by our safari—our head-man is pursuing us now with warriors. There are but five of us and we ask your protection.”
“Let them come,” said Jane to the Waziri.
As Flora Hawkes and the four men entered the boma beneath the scrutiny of Jane Clayton and the Waziri, another pair of eyes watched from the foliage of the great tree that overhung the camp upon the opposite side—gray eyes to which a strange light came as they recognized the girl and her companions.
As the newcomers approached Lady Greystoke the latter gave an exclamation of surprise. “Flora!” she exclaimed, in astonishment. “Flora Hawkes, what in the world are you doing here?”
The girl, startled too, came to a full stop. “Lady Greystoke!” she ejaculated.
“I do not understand,” continued Lady Greystoke. “I did not know that you were in Africa.”
For a moment the glib Flora was overcome by consternation, but presently her native wit came to her assistance. “I am here with Mr. Bluber and his friends,” she said, “who came to make scientific researches, and brought me along because I had been to Africa with you and Lord Greystoke, and knew something of the manners and customs of the country, and now our boys have turned against us and unless you can help us we are lost.”
“Are they west coast boys?” asked Jane.
“Yes,” replied Flora.
“I think my Waziri can handle them. How many of them are there?”
“About two hundred,” said Kraski.
Lady Greystoke shook her head. “The odds are pretty heavy,” she commented, and then she called to Usula, who was in charge. “There are two hundred west coast boys coming after these people,” she said; “we shall have to fight to defend them.”
“We are Waziri,” replied Usula, simply, and a moment later the van of Luvini’s forces broke into view at the outer rim of the camp-fire’s reach.
At sight of the glistening warriors ready to receive them the west coast boys halted. Luvini, taking in the inferior numbers of the enemy at a glance, stepped forward a few paces ahead of his men and commenced to shout taunts and insults, demanding the return of the whites to him. He accompanied his words with fantastic and grotesque steps, at the same time waving his rifle and shaking his fist. Presently his followers took up the refrain until the whole band of two hundred was shrieking and yelling and threatening, the while they leaped up and down as they worked themselves into a frenzy of excitement that would impart to them the courage necessary for the initiating of a charge.
The Waziri, behind the boma wall, schooled and disciplined by Tarzan of the Apes, had long since discarded the fantastic overture to battle so dear to the hearts of other warlike tribes and, instead, stood stolid and grim awaiting the coming of the foe.
“They have a number of rifles,” commented Lady Greystoke; “that looks rather bad for us.”
“There are not over half-a-dozen who can hit anything with their rifles,” said Kraski.
“You men are all armed. Take your places among my Waziri. Warn your men to go away and leave us alone. Do not fire until they attack, but at the first overt act, commence firing, and keep it up—there is nothing that so discourages a west coast black as the rifle fire of white men. Flora and I will remain at the back of the camp, near that large tree.” She spoke authoritatively, as one who is accustomed to command and knows whereof she speaks. The men obeyed her; even Bluber, though he trembled pitiably as he moved forward to take his place in the front ranks among the Waziri.
Their movements, in the light of the camp-fire, were all plainly discernible to Luvini, and also to that other who watched from the foliage of the tree beneath which Jane Clayton and Flora Hawkes took refuge. Luvini had not come to fight. He had come to capture Flora Hawkes. He turned to his men. “There are only fifty of them,” he said. “We can kill them easily, but we did not come to make war. We came to get the white girl back again. Stay here and make a great show against those sons of jackals. Keep them always looking at you. Advance a little and then fall back again, and while you are thus keeping their attention attracted in this direction I will take fifty men and go to the rear of their camp and get the white girl, and when I have her I will send word to you and immediately you can return to the village, where, behind the palisade, we shall be safe against attack.”
Now this plan well suited the west coast blacks, who had no stomach for the battle looming so imminent, and so they danced and yelled and menaced more vociferously than before, for they felt they were doing it all with perfect impunity, since presently they should retire, after a bloodless victory, to the safety of their palisade.
As Luvini, making a detour, crept through the concealment of the dense jungles to the rear of the camp while the din of the west coast blacks arose to almost deafening proportions, there dropped suddenly to the ground before the two white women from the tree above them, the figure of a white giant, naked except for loin cloth and leopard skin—his godlike contour picked out by the flickering light of the beast fire.
“John!” exclaimed Lady Greystoke. “Thank God it is you.”
“S-s-sh!” cautioned the white giant, placing a forefinger to his lips, and then suddenly he wheeled upon Flora Hawkes. “It is you I want,” he cried, and seizing the girl he threw her lightly across his shoulders, and before Lady Greystoke could interfere—before she half-realized what had occurred—he had lightly leaped the protecting boma in the rear of the camp and disappeared into the jungle beyond.
For a moment Jane Clayton stood reeling as one stunned by an unexpected blow, and then, with a stifled moan, she sank sobbing to the ground, her face buried in her arms.
It was thus that Luvini and his warriors found her as they crept stealthily over the boma and into the camp in the rear of the defenders upon the opposite side of the beast fire. They had come for a white woman and they had found one, and roughly dragging her to her feet, smothering her cries with rough and filthy palms, they bore her out into the jungle toward the palisaded village of the ivory raiders.
Ten minutes later the white men and the Waziri saw the west coast blacks retire slowly into the jungle, still yelling and threatening, as though bent on the total annihilation of their enemies—the battle was over without a shot fired or a spear hurled.
“Blime,” said Throck, “what was all the bloomin’ fuss about anyhow?”
“Hi thought they was goin’ to heat hus hup, an’ the blighters never done nothin’ but yell, an’ ’ere we are, ’n that’s that.”
The Jew swelled out his chest. “It takes more as a bunch of niggers to bluff Adolph Bluber,” he said pompously.
Kraski looked after the departing blacks, and then, scratching his head, turned back toward the camp-fire. “I can’t understand it,” he said, and then, suddenly, “Where are Flora and Lady Greystoke?”
It was then that they discovered that the two women were missing.
The Waziri were frantic. They called the name of their mistress aloud, but there was no reply. “Come!” cried Usula, “we, the Waziri, shall fight, after all,” and running to the boma he leaped it, and, followed by his fifty blacks, set out in pursuit of the west coast boys.
It was but a moment or two before they overtook them, and that which ensued resembled more a rout than a battle. Fleeing in terror toward their palisade with the Waziri at their heels the west coast blacks threw away their rifles that they might run the faster, but Luvini and his party had had sufficient start so that they were able to reach the village and gain the safety of the palisade before pursued and pursuers reached it. Once inside the gate the defenders made a stand for they realized that if the Waziri entered they should all be massacred, and so they fought as a cornered rat will fight, with the result that they managed to hold off the attackers until they could close and bar the gate. Built as it had been as a defense against far greater numbers the village was easy to defend, for there were less than fifty Waziri now, and nearly two hundred fighting men within the village to defend it against them.
Realizing the futility of blind attack Usula withdrew his forces a short distance from the palisade, and there they squatted, their fierce, scowling faces glaring at the gateway while Usula pondered schemes for outwitting the enemy, which he realized he could not overcome by force alone.
“It is only Lady Greystoke that we want,” he said; “vengeance can wait until another day.”
“But we do not even know that she is within the village,” reminded one of his men.
“Where else could she be, then?” asked Usula. “It is true that you may be right—she may not be within the village, but that I intend to find out. I have a plan. See; the wind is from the opposite side of the village. Ten of you will accompany me, the others will advance again before the gate and make much noise, and pretend that you are about to attack. After awhile the gate will open and they will come out. That I promise you. I will try to be here before that happens, but if I am not, divide into two parties and stand upon either side of the gateway and let the west coast blacks escape; we do not care for them. Watch only for Lady Greystoke, and when you see her take her away from those who guard her. Do you understand?” His companions nodded. “Then come,” he said, and selecting ten men disappeared into the jungle.
Luvini had carried Jane Clayton to a hut not far from the gateway to the village. Here he had bound her securely and tied her to a stake, still believing that she was Flora Hawkes, and then he had left her to hurry back toward the gate that he might take command of his forces in defense of the village.
So rapidly had the events of the past hour transpired that Jane Clayton was still half dazed from the series of shocks that she had been called upon to endure. Dwarfing to nothingness the menace of her present position was the remembrance that her Tarzan had deserted her in her hour of need, and carried off into the jungle another woman. Not even the remembrance of what Usula had told her concerning the accident that Tarzan had sustained, and which had supposedly again affected his memory, could reconcile her to the brutality of his desertion, and now she lay, face down, in the filth of the Arab hut, sobbing as she had not for many years.
As she lay there torn by grief, Usula and his ten crept stealthily and silently around the outside of the palisade to the rear of the village. Here they found great quantities of dead brush left from the clearing which the Arabs had made when constructing their village. This they brought and piled along the palisade, close against it, until nearly three-quarters of the palisade upon that side of the village was banked high with it. Finding that it was difficult to prosecute their work in silence, Usula despatched one of his men to the main body upon the opposite side of the village, with instructions that they were to keep up a continuous din of shouting to drown the sound of the operations of their fellows. The plan worked to perfection, yet even though it permitted Usula and his companions to labor with redoubled efforts, it was more than an hour before the brush pile was disposed to his satisfaction.
Luvini, from an aperture in the palisade, watched the main body of the Waziri who were now revealed by the rising of the moon, and finally he came to the conclusion that they did not intend to attack that night, and therefore he might relax his watchfulness and utilize the time in another and more agreeable manner. Instructing the bulk of his warriors to remain near the gate and ever upon the alert, with orders that he be summoned the moment that the Waziri showed any change in attitude, Luvini repaired to the hut in which he had left Lady Greystoke.
The black was a huge fellow, with low, receding forehead and prognathous jaw—a type of the lowest form of African negro. As he entered the hut with a lighted torch which he stuck in the floor, his bloodshot eyes gazed greedily at the still form of the woman lying prone before him. He licked his thick lips and, coming closer, reached out and touched her. Jane Clayton looked up, and recoiling in revulsion shrank away. At sight of the woman’s face the black looked his surprise.
“Who are you?” he demanded in the pidgin English of the coast.
“I am Lady Greystoke, wife of Tarzan of the Apes,” replied Jane Clayton. “If you are wise you will release me at once.”
Surprise and terror showed in the eyes of Luvini, and another emotion as well, but which would dominate the muddy brain it was difficult, then, to tell. For a long time he sat gazing at her, and slowly the greedy, gloating expression upon his face dominated and expunged the fear that had at first been written there, and in the change Jane Clayton read her doom.
With fumbling fingers Luvini untied the knots of the bonds that held Jane Clayton’s wrists and ankles. She felt his hot breath upon her and saw his bloodshot eyes and the red tongue that momentarily licked the thick lips. The instant that she felt the last thong with which she was tied fall away she leaped to her feet and sprang for the entrance to the hut, but a great hand reached forth and seized her, and as Luvini dragged her back toward him, she wheeled like a mad tigress and struck repeatedly at his grinning, ugly face. By brute force, ruthless and indomitable, he beat down her weak resistance and slowly and surely dragged her closer to him. Oblivious to aught else, deaf to the cries of the Waziri before the gate and to the sudden new commotion that arose in the village, the two struggled on, the woman, from the first, foredoomed to defeat.
Against the rear palisade Usula had already put burning torches to his brush pile at half-a-dozen different places. The flames, fanned by a gentle jungle breeze, had leaped almost immediately into a roaring conflagration, before which the dry wood of the palisade crumbled in a shower of ruddy sparks which the wind carried to the thatched roofs of the huts beyond, until in an incredibly short period of time the village was a roaring inferno of flames. And even as Usula had predicted the gate swung open and the west coast blacks swarmed forth in terror toward the jungle. Upon either side of the gateway the Waziri stood, looking for their mistress, but though they waited and watched in silence until no more came from the gateway of the village, and until the interior of the palisade was a seething hell of fire, they saw nothing of her.
Long after they were convinced that no human being could remain alive in the village they still waited and hoped; but at last Usula gave up the useless vigil.
“She was never there,” he said, “and now we must pursue the blacks and capture some of them, from whom we may learn the whereabouts of Lady Greystoke.”
It was daylight before they came upon a small band of stragglers, who were in camp a few miles toward the west. These they quickly surrounded, winning their immediate surrender by promises of immunity in the event that they would answer truthfully the questions that Usula should propound.
“Where is Luvini?” demanded Usula, who had learned the name of the leader of the west coast boys from the Europeans the evening before.
“We do not know; we have not seen him since We left the village,” replied one of the blacks. “We were some of the slaves of the Arabs, and when we escaped the palisade last night we ran away from the others, for we thought that we should be safer alone than with Luvini, who is even crueller than the Arabs.”
“Did you see the white women that he brought to the camp last night?” demanded Usula.
“He brought but one white woman,” replied the other.
“What did he do with her? Where is she now?” asked Usula.
“I do not know. When he brought her he bound her hand and foot and put her in the hut which he occupied near the village gate. We have not seen her since.”
Usula turned and looked at his companions. A great fear was in his eyes, a fear that was reflected in the countenances of the others.
“Come!” he said, “we shall return to the village. And you will go with us,” he added, addressing the west coast blacks, “and if you have lied to us—” he made a significant movement with his forefinger across his throat.
“We have not lied to you,” replied the others.
Quickly they retraced their steps toward the ruins of the Arab village, nothing of which was left save a few piles of smoldering embers.
“Where was the hut in which the white woman was confined?” demanded Usula, as they entered the smoking ruins.
“Here,” said one of the blacks, and walked quickly a few paces beyond what had been the village gateway. Suddenly he halted and pointed at something which lay upon the ground.
“There,” he said, “is the white woman you seek.”
Usula and the others pressed forward. Rage and grief contended for mastery of them as they beheld, lying before them, the charred remnants of a human body.
“It is she,” said Usula, turning away to hide his grief as the tears rolled down his ebon cheeks. The other Waziri were equally affected, for they all had loved the mate of the big Bwana.
“Perhaps it is not she,” suggested one of them; “perhaps it is another.”
“We can tell quickly,” cried a third. “If her rings are among the ashes it is indeed she,” and he knelt and searched for the rings which Lady Greystoke habitually wore.
Usula shook his head despairingly. “It is she,” he said, “there is the very stake to which she was fastened”—he pointed to the blackened stub of a stake close beside the body—“and as for the rings, even if they are not there it will mean nothing, for Luvini would have taken them away from her as soon as he captured her. There was time for everyone else to leave the village except she, who was bound and could not leave—no, it cannot be another.”
The Waziri scooped a shallow grave and reverently deposited the ashes there, marking the spot with a little cairn of stones.
AS Tarzan of the Apes, adapting his speed to that of Jad-bal-ja, made his comparatively slow way toward home, he reviewed with varying emotions the experiences of the past week. While he had been unsuccessful in raiding the treasure vaults of Opar, the sack of diamonds which he carried compensated several-fold for this miscarriage of his plans. His only concern now was for the safety of his Waziri, and, perhaps, a troublesome desire to seek out the whites who had drugged him and mete out to them the punishment they deserved. In view, however, of his greater desire to return home he decided to make no effort at apprehending them for the time being at least.
Hunting together, feeding together, and sleeping together, the man and the great lion trod the savage jungle trails toward home. Yesterday they shared the meat of Bara, the deer, today they feasted upon the carcass of Horta, the boar, and between them there was little chance that either would go hungry.
They had come within a day’s march of the bungalow when Tarzan discovered the spoor of a considerable body of warriors. As some men devour the latest stock-market quotations as though their very existence depended upon an accurate knowledge of them, so Tarzan of the Apes devoured every scrap of information that the jungle held for him, for, in truth, an accurate knowledge of all that this information could impart to him had been during his lifetime a sine qua non to his existence. So now he carefully examined the spoor that lay before him, several days old though it was and partially obliterated by the passage of beasts since it had been made, but yet legible enough to the keen eyes and nostrils of the ape-man. His partial indifference suddenly gave way to keen interest, for among the footprints of the great warriors he saw now and again the smaller one of a white woman—a loved footprint that he knew as well as you know your mother’s face.
“The Waziri returned and told her that I was missing,” he soliloquized, “and now she has set out with them to search for me.” He turned to the lion. “Well, Jad-bal-ja, once again we turn away from home—but no, where she is is home.”
The direction that the trail led rather mystified Tarzan of the Apes, as it was not along the direct route toward Opar, but in a rather more southerly direction. On the sixth day his keen ears caught the sound of approaching men, and presently there was wafted to his nostrils the spoor of blacks. Sending Jad-bal-ja into a thicket to hide, Tarzan took to the trees and moved rapidly in the direction of the approaching negroes. As the distance between them lessened the scent became stronger, until, even before he saw them, Tarzan knew that they were Waziri, but the one effluvium that would have filled his soul with happiness was lacking.
It was a surprised Usula who, at the head of the sad and dejected Waziri, came at the turning of the trail suddenly face to face with his master.
“Tarzan of the Apes!” cried Usula. “Is it indeed you?”
“It is none other,” replied the ape-man, “but where is Lady Greystoke?”
“Ah, master, how can we tell you!” cried Usula.
“You do not mean—” cried Tarzan. “It cannot be. Nothing could happen to her while she was guarded by my Waziri!”
The warriors hung their heads in shame and sorrow. “We offer our lives for hers,” said Usula, simply. He threw down his spear and shield and, stretching his arms wide apart, bared his great breast to Tarzan. “Strike, Bwana,” he said.
The ape-man turned away with bowed head. Presently he looked at Usula again. “Tell me how it happened,” he said, “and forget your foolish speech as I have forgotten the suggestion which prompted it.”
Briefly Usula narrated the events which had led up to the death of Jane, and when he was done Tarzan of the Apes spoke but three words, voicing a question which was typical of him.
“Where is Luvini?” he asked.
“Ah, that we do not know,” replied Usula.
“But I shall know,” said Tarzan of the Apes. “Go upon your way, my children, back to your huts, and your women and your children, and when next you see Tarzan of the Apes you will know that Luvini is dead.”
They begged permission to accompany him, but he would not listen to them.
“You are needed at home at this time of year,” he said. “Already have you been gone too long from the herds and fields. Return, then, and carry word to Korak, but tell him that it is my wish that he, too, remains at home—if I fail, then may he come and take up my unfinished work if he wishes to do so.” As he ceased speaking he turned back in the direction from which he had come, and whistled once a single, low, long-drawn note, and a moment later Jad-bal-ja, the golden lion, bounded into view along the jungle trail.
“The golden lion!” cried Usula. “When he escaped from Keewazi it was to search for his beloved Bwana.”
Tarzan nodded. “He followed many marches to a strange country until he found me,” he said, and then he bid the Waziri good-bye and bent his steps once more away from home in search of Luvini and revenge.
John Peebles, wedged in the crotch of a large tree, greeted the coming dawn with weary eyes. Near him was Dick Throck, similarly braced in another crotch, while Kraski, more intelligent and therefore possessing more inventive genius, had rigged a small platform of branches across two parallel boughs, upon which he lay in comparative comfort. Ten feet above him Bluber swung, half exhausted and wholly terrified, to a smaller branch, supported in something that approximated safety by a fork of the branch to which he clung.
“Gord,” groaned Peebles, “hi’ll let the bloody lions ’ave me before hi’ll spend another such a night as this, an’ ’ere we are, ’n that’s that!”
“And blime, too,” said Throck, “hi sleeps on the ground hafter this, lions or no lions.”
“If the combined intelligence of the three of you was equal to that of a walrus,” remarked Kraski, “we might have slept in comparative safety and comfort last night on the ground.”
“Hey there, Bluber, Mister Kraski is spikin’ to yer,” called Peebles in fine sarcasm, accenting the Mister.
“Oi! Oi! I don’t care vot nobody says,” moaned Bluber.
“ ’E wants us to build a ’ouse for ’im hevery night,” continued Peebles, “while ’e stands abaht and tells us bloomin’ well ’ow to do it, and ’im, bein’ a fine gentleman, don’t do no work.”
“Why should I do any work with my hands when you two big beasts haven’t got anything else to work with?” asked Kraski. “You would all have starved by this time if I hadn’t found food for you. And you’ll be lion meat in the end, or die of exhaustion if you don’t listen to me—not that it would be much loss.”
The others paid no attention to his last sally. As a matter of fact they had all been quarreling so much for such a long time that they really paid little attention to one another. With the exception of Peebles and Throck they all hated one another cordially, and only clung together because they were afraid to separate. Slowly Peebles lowered his bulk to the ground. Throck followed him, and then came Kraski, and then, finally, Bluber, who stood for a moment in silence, looking down at his disreputable clothing.
“Mein Gott!” he exclaimed at last. “Look at me! Dis suit, vot it cost me tventy guineas, look at it. Ruined. Ruined. It vouldn’t bring vun penny in der pound.”
“The hell with your clothes!” exclaimed Kraski. “Here we are, lost, half starved, constantly menaced by wild animals, and maybe, for all we know, by cannibals, with Flora missing in the jungle, and you can stand there and talk about your ’tventy guinea’ suit. You make me tired, Bluber. But come on, we might as well be moving.”
“Which way?” asked Throck.
“Why, to the west, of course,” replied Kraski. “The coast is there, and there is nothing else for us to do but try to reach it.”
“We can’t reach it by goin’ east,” roared Peebles, “an’ ’ere we are, ’n that’s that.”
“Who said we could?” demanded Kraski.
“Well, we was travelin’ east all day yesterday,” said Peebles. “I knew all the time that there was somethin’ wrong, and I just got it figured out.”
Throck looked at his partner in stupid surprise. “What do you mean?” he growled. “What makes you think we was travelin’ east?”
“It’s easy enough,” replied Peebles, “and I can prove it to you. Because this party here knows so much more than the rest of us we’ve been travelin’ straight toward the interior ever since the niggers deserted us.” He nodded toward the Russian, who stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing the other quizzically.
“If you think I’m taking you in the wrong direction, Peebles,” said Kraski, “you just turn around and go the other way; but I’m going to keep on the way we’ve been going, which is the right way.”
“It ain’t the right way,” retorted Peebles, “and I’ll show yer. Listen here. When you travel west the sun is at your left side, isn’t it—that is, all durin’ the middle of the day. Well, ever since we’ve been travelin’ without the niggers the sun has been on our right. I thought all the time there was somethin’ wrong, but I could never figure it out until just now. It’s plain as the face on your nose. We’ve been travelin’ due east right along.”
“Blime,” cried Throck, “that we have, due east, and this blighter thinks as ’ow ’e knows it all.”
“Oi!” groaned Bluber, “und ve got to valk it all back again yet, once more?”
Kraski laughed and turned away to resume the march in the direction he had chosen. “You fellows go on your own way if you want to,” he said, “and while you’re traveling, just ponder the fact that you’re south of the equator and that therefore the sun is always in the north, which, however, doesn’t change its old-fashioned habit of setting in the west.”
Bluber was the first to grasp the truth of Kraski’s statement. “Come on, boys,” he said, “Carl vas right,” and he turned and followed the Russian.
Peebles stood scratching his head, entirely baffled by the puzzling problem, which Throck, also, was pondering deeply. Presently the latter turned after Bluber and Kraski. “Come on, John,” he said to Peebles, “hi don’t hunderstand it, but hi guess they’re right. They are headin’ right toward where the sun set last night, and that sure must be west.”
His theory tottering, Peebles followed Throck, though he remained unconvinced.
The four men, hungry and footsore, had dragged their weary way along the jungle trail toward the west for several hours in vain search for game. Unschooled in jungle craft they blundered on. There might have been on every hand fierce carnivore or savage warriors, but so dull are the perceptive faculties of civilized man, the most blatant foe might have stalked them unperceived.
And so it was that shortly after noon, as they were crossing a small clearing, the zip of an arrow that barely missed Bluber’s head, brought them to a sudden, terrified halt. With a shrill scream of terror the Jew crumpled to the ground. Kraski threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired.
“There!” he cried, “behind those bushes,” and then another arrow, from another direction, pierced his forearm. Peebles and Throck, beefy and cumbersome, got into action with less celerity than the Russian, but, like him, they showed no indication of fear.
“Down,” cried Kraski, suiting the action to the word. “Lie down and let them have it.”
Scarcely had the three men dropped among the long grass when a score of pigmy hunters came into the open, and a volley of arrows whizzed above the prone men, while from a nearby tree two steel-gray eyes looked down upon the ambush.
Bluber lay upon his belly with his face buried in his arms, his useless rifle lying at his side, but Kraski, Peebles, and Throck, fighting for their lives, pumped lead into the band of yelling pigmies.
Kraski and Peebles each dropped a native with his rifle and then the foe withdrew into the concealing safety of the surrounding jungle. For a moment there was a cessation of hostilities. Utter silence reigned, and then a voice broke the quiet from the verdure of a nearby forest giant.
“Do not fire until I tell you to,” it said, in English, “and I will save you.”
Bluber raised his head. “Come qvick! Come qvick!” he cried, “ve vill not shoot. Safe me, safe me, und I giff you five pounds.”
From the tree from which the voice had issued there came a single, low, long-drawn, whistled note, and then silence for a time.
The pigmies, momentarily surprised by the mysterious voice emanating from the foliage of a tree, ceased their activities, but presently, hearing nothing to arouse their fear, they emerged from the cover of the bushes and launched another volley of arrows toward the four men lying among the grasses in the clearing. Simultaneously the figure of a giant white leaped from the lower branches of a patriarch of the jungle, as a great black-maned lion sprang from the thicket below.
“Oi!” shrieked Bluber, and again buried his face in his arms.
For an instant the pigmies stood terrified, and then their leader cried: “It is Tarzan!” and turned and fled into the jungle.
“Yes, it is Tarzan—Tarzan of the Apes,” cried Lord Greystoke. “It is Tarzan and the golden lion,” but he spoke in the dialect of the pigmies, and the whites understood no word of what he said. Then he turned to them. “The Gomangani have gone,” he said; “get up.”
The four men crawled to their feet. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” demanded Tarzan of the Apes. “But I do not need to ask who you are. You are the men who drugged me, and left me helpless in your camp, a prey to the first passing lion or savage native.”
Bluber stumbled forward, rubbing his palms together and cringing and smiling. “Oi! Oi! Mr. Tarzan, ve did not know you. Neffer vould ve did vat ve done, had ve known it vas Tarzan of the Apes. Safe me! Ten pounds—tventy pounds—anyt’ing. Name your own price. Safe me, und it is yours.”
Tarzan ignored the Jew and turned toward the others. “I am looking for one of your men,” he said; “a black named Luvini. He killed my wife. Where is he?”
“We know nothing of that,” said Kraski. “Luvini betrayed us and deserted us. Your wife and another white woman were in our camp at the time. None of us knows what became of them. They were behind us when we took our post to defend the camp from our men and the slaves of the Arabs. Your Waziri were there. After the enemy had withdrawn we found that the two women had disappeared. We do not know what became of them. We are looking for them now.”
“My Waziri told me as much,” said Tarzan, “but have you seen aught of Luvini since?”
“No, we have not,” replied Kraski.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Tarzan.
“We came with Mr. Bluber on a scientific expedition,” replied the Russian. “We have had a great deal of trouble. Our head-men, askari, and porters have mutinied and deserted. We are absolutely alone and helpless.”
“Oi! Oi!” cried Bluber. “Safe us! Safe us! But keep dot lion avay. He makes me nerfous.”
“He will not hurt you—unless I tell him to,” said Tarzan.
“Den please don’t tell him to,” cried Bluber.
“Where do you want to go?” asked Tarzan.
“We are trying to get back to the coast,” replied Kraski, “and from there to London.”
“Come with me,” said Tarzan, “possibly I can help you. You do not deserve it, but I cannot see white men perish here in the jungle.”
They followed him toward the west, and that night they made camp beside a small jungle stream.
It was difficult for the four Londoners to accustom themselves to the presence of the great lion, and Bluber was in a state of palpable terror.
As they squatted around the fire after the evening meal, which Tarzan had provided, Kraski suggested that they set to and build some sort of a shelter against the wild beasts.
“It will not be necessary,” said Tarzan. “Jad-bal-ja will guard you. He will sleep here beside Tarzan of the Apes, and what one of us does not hear the other will.”
Bluber sighed. “Mein Gott!” he cried. “I should giff ten pounds for vun night’s sleep.”
“You may have it tonight for less than that,” replied Tarzan, “for nothing shall befall you while Jad-bal-ja and I are here.”
“Vell, den I t’ink I say good night,” said the Jew, and moving a few paces away from the fire he curled up and was soon asleep. Throck and Peebles followed suit, and shortly after Kraski, too.
As the Russian lay, half dozing, his eyes partially open, he saw the ape-man rise from the squatting position he had maintained before the fire, and turn toward a nearby tree. As he did so something fell from beneath his loin cloth—a little sack made of hides—a little sack, bulging with its contents.
Kraski, thoroughly awakened now, watched it as the ape-man moved off a short distance, accompanied by Jad-bal-ja, and lay down to sleep.
The great lion curled beside the prostrate man, and presently the Russian was assured that both slept. Immediately he commenced crawling, stealthily and slowly toward the little package lying beside the fire. With each forward move that he made he paused and looked at the recumbent figures of the two ferocious beasts before him, but both slept on peacefully. At last the Russian could reach out and grasp the sack, and drawing it toward him he stuffed it quickly inside his shirt. Then he turned and crawled slowly and carefully back to his place beyond the fire. There, lying with his head upon one arm as though in profound slumber, he felt carefully of the sack with the fingers of his left hand.
“They feel like pebbles,” he muttered to himself, “and doubtless that is what they are, for the barbaric ornamentation of this savage barbarian who is a peer of England. It does not seem possible that this wild beast has sat in the House of Lords.”
Noiselessly Kraski undid the knot which held the mouth of the sack closed, and a moment later he let a portion of the contents trickle forth into his open palm.
“My God!” he cried, “diamonds!”
Greedily he poured them all out and gloated over them—great scintillating stones of the first water—five pounds of pure, white diamonds, representing so fabulous a fortune that the very contemplation of it staggered the Russian.
“My God!” he repeated, “the wealth of Crœsus in my own hand.”
Quickly he gathered up the stones and replaced them in the sack, always with one eye upon Tarzan and Jad-bal-ja; but neither stirred, and presently he had returned them all to the pouch and slipped the package inside his shirt.
“Tomorrow,” he muttered, “tomorrow—would to God that I had the nerve to attempt it tonight.”
In the middle of the following morning Tarzan, with the four Londoners, approached a good sized, stockaded village, containing many huts. He was received not only graciously, but with the deference due an emperor.
The whites were awed by the attitude of the black chief and his warriors as Tarzan was conducted into their presence.
After the usual ceremony had been gone through, Tarzan turned and waved his hand toward the four Europeans. “These are my friends,” he said to the black chief, “and they wish to reach the coast in safety. Send with them, then, sufficient warriors to feed and guard them during the journey. It is I, Tarzan of the Apes, who requests this favor.”
“Tarzan of the Apes, the great chief, Lord of the Jungle, has but to command,” replied the black.
“Good!” exclaimed Tarzan, “feed them well and treat them well. I have other business to attend to and may not remain.”
“Their bellies shall be filled, and they shall reach the coast unscathed,” replied the chief.
Without a word of farewell, without even a sign that he realized their existence, Tarzan of the Apes passed from the sight of the four Europeans, while at his heels paced Jad-bal-ja, the golden lion.
KRASKI spent a sleepless night. He could not help but realize that sooner or later Tarzan would discover the loss of his pouch of diamonds, and that he would return and demand an accounting of the four Londoners he had befriended. And so it was that as the first streak of dawn lighted the eastern horizon, the Russian arose from his pallet of dried grasses within the hut that had been assigned him and Bluber by the chief, and crept stealthily out into the village street.
“God!” he muttered to himself. “There is only one chance in a thousand that I can reach the coast alone, but this,” and he pressed his hand over the bag of diamonds that lay within his shirt—“but this, this is worth every effort, even to the sacrifice of life—the fortune of a thousand kings—my God, what could I not do with it in London, and Paris, and New York!”
Stealthily he slunk from the village, and presently the verdure of the jungle beyond closed about Carl Kraski, the Russian, as he disappeared forever from the lives of his companions.
Bluber was the first to discover the absence of Kraski, for, although there was no love between the two, they had been thrown together owing to the friendship of Peebles and Throck.
“Have you seen Carl this morning?” he asked Peebles as the three men gathered around the pot containing the unsavory stew that had been brought to them for their breakfast.
“No,” said Peebles. “He must be asleep yet.”
“He is not in the hut,” replied Bluber. “He vas not dere ven I woke up.”
“He can take care of himself,” growled Throck, resuming his breakfast. “You’ll likely find him with some of the ladies,” and he grinned in appreciation of his little joke on Kraski’s well-known weakness.
They had finished their breakfast and were attempting to communicate with some of the warriors, in an effort to learn when the chief proposed that they should set forth for the coast, and still Kraski had not made an appearance. By this time Bluber was considerably concerned, not at all for Kraski’s safety, but for his own, since, if something could happen to Kraski in this friendly village in the still watches of the night, a similar fate might overtake him, and when he made this suggestion to the others it gave them food for thought, too, so that there were three rather apprehensive men who sought an audience with the chief.
By means of signs and pidgin English, and distorted native dialect, a word or two of which each of the three understood, they managed to convey to the chief the information that Kraski had disappeared, and that they wanted to know what had become of him.
The chief was, of course, as much puzzled as they, and immediately instituted a thorough search of the village, with the result that it was soon found that Kraski was not within the palisade, and shortly afterward footprints were discovered leading through the village gateway into the jungle.
“Mein Gott!” exclaimed Bluber, “he vent out dere, und he vent alone, in der middle of der night. He must have been crazy.”
“Gord!” cried Throck, “what did he want to do that for?”
“You ain’t missed nothin’, have you?” asked Peebles of the other two. “ ’E might ’ave stolen somethin’.”
“Oi! Oi! Vot have ve got to steal?” cried Bluber. “Our guns, our ammunition—dey are here beside us. He did not take them. Beside dose ve have nothing of value except my tventy guinea suit.”
“But what did ’e do it for?” demanded Peebles.
“ ’E must ’ave been walkin’ in ’is bloomin’ sleep,” said Throck. And that was as near to an explanation of Kraski’s mysterious disappearance as the three could reach. An hour later they set out toward the coast under the protection of a company of the chief’s warriors.
Kraski, his rifle slung over his shoulder, moved doggedly along the jungle trail, a heavy automatic pistol grasped in his right hand. His ears were constantly strained for the first intimation of pursuit as well as for whatever other dangers might lurk before or upon either side. Alone in the mysterious jungle he was experiencing a nightmare of terror, and with each mile that he traveled the value of the diamonds became less and less by comparison with the frightful ordeal that he realized he must pass through before he could hope to reach the coast.
Once Histah, the snake, swinging from a lowhung branch across the trail, barred his way, and the man dared not fire at him for fear of attracting the attention of possible pursuers to his position. He was forced, therefore, to make a detour through the tangled mass of underbrush which grew closely upon either side of the narrow trail. When he reached it again, beyond the snake, his clothing was more torn and tattered than before, and his flesh was scratched and cut and bleeding from the innumerable thorns past which he had been compelled to force his way. He was soaked with perspiration and panting from exhaustion, and his clothing was filled with ants whose vicious attacks upon his flesh rendered him half mad with pain.
Once again in the clear he tore his clothing from him and sought frantically to rid himself of the torturing pests.
So thick were the myriad ants upon his clothing that he dared not attempt to reclaim it. Only the sack of diamonds, his ammunition and his weapons did he snatch from the ravening horde whose numbers were rapidly increasing, apparently by millions, as they sought to again lay hold upon him and devour him.
Shaking the bulk of the ants from the articles he had retrieved, Kraski dashed madly along the trail as naked as the day he was born, and when, a half hour later, stumbling and at last falling exhausted, he lay panting upon the damp jungle earth, he realized the utter futility of his mad attempt to reach the coast alone, even more fully than he ever could have under any other circumstances, since there is nothing that so paralyzes the courage and self-confidence of a civilized man as to be deprived of his clothing.
However scant the protection that might have been afforded by the torn and tattered garments he had discarded, he could not have felt more helpless had he lost his weapons and ammunition instead, for, to such an extent are we the creatures of habit and environment. It was, therefore, a terrified Kraski, already foredoomed to failure, who crawled fearfully along the jungle trail.
That night, hungry and cold, he slept in the crotch of a great tree while the hunting carnivore roared, and coughed, and growled through the blackness of the jungle about him. Shivering with terror he started momentarily to fearful wakefulness, and when, from exhaustion, he would doze again it was not to rest but to dream of horrors that a sudden roar would merge into reality. Thus the long hours of a frightful night dragged out their tedious length, until it seemed that dawn would never come. But come it did, and once again he took up his stumbling way toward the west.
Reduced by fear and fatigue and pain to a state bordering upon half consciousness, he blundered on, with each passing hour becoming perceptibly weaker, for he had been without food or water since he had deserted his companions more than thirty hours before.
Noon was approaching. Kraski was moving but slowly now with frequent rests, and it was during one of these that there came to his numbed sensibilities an insistent suggestion of the voices of human beings not far distant. Quickly he shook himself and attempted to concentrate his waning faculties. He listened intently, and presently with a renewal of strength he arose to his feet.
There was no doubt about it. He heard voices but a short distance away and they sounded not like the tones of natives, but rather those of Europeans. Yet he was still careful, and so he crawled cautiously forward, until at a turning of the trail he saw before him a clearing dotted with trees which bordered the banks of a muddy stream. Near the edge of the river was a small hut thatched with grasses and surrounded by a rude palisade and further protected by an outer boma of thorn bushes.
It was from the direction of the hut that the voices were coming, and now he clearly discerned a woman’s voice raised in protest and in anger, and replying to it the deep voice of a man.
Slowly the eyes of Carl Kraski went wide in incredulity, not unmixed with terror, for the tones of the voice of the man he heard were the tones of the dead Esteban Miranda, and the voice of the woman was that of the missing Flora Hawkes, whom he had long since given up as dead also. But Carl Kraski was no great believer in the supernatural. Disembodied spirits need no huts or palisades, or bomas of thorns. The owners of those voices were as live—as material—as he.
He started forward toward the hut, his hatred of Esteban and his jealousy almost forgotten in the relief he felt in the realization that he was to again have the companionship of creatures of his own kind. He had moved, however, but a few steps from the edge of the jungle when the woman’s voice came again to his ear, and with it the sudden realization of his nakedness. He paused in thought, looking about him, and presently he was busily engaged gathering the long, broad-leaved jungle grasses, from which he fabricated a rude but serviceable skirt, which he fastened about his waist with a twisted rope of the same material. Then with a feeling of renewed confidence he moved forward toward the hut. Fearing that they might not recognize him at first, and, taking him for an enemy, attack him, Kraski, before he reached the entrance to the palisade, called Esteban by name. Immediately the Spaniard came from the hut, followed by the girl. Had Kraski not heard his voice and recognized him by it, he would have thought him Tarzan of the Apes, so close was the remarkable resemblance.
For a moment the two stood looking at the strange apparition before them.
“Don’t you know me?” asked Kraski. “I am Carl—Carl Kraski. You know me, Flora.”
“Carl!” exclaimed the girl, and started to leap forward, but Esteban grasped her by the wrist and held her back.
“What are you doing here, Kraski?” asked the Spaniard in a surly tone.
“I am trying to make my way to the coast,” replied the Russian. “I am nearly dead from starvation and exposure.”
“The way to the coast is there,” said the Spaniard, and pointed down the trail toward the west. “Keep moving, Kraski, it is not healthy for you here.”
“You mean to say that you will send me on without food or water?” demanded the Russian.
“There is water,” said Esteban, pointing at the river, “and the jungle is full of food for one with sufficient courage and intelligence to gather it.”
“You cannot send him away,” cried the girl. “I did not think it possible that even you could be so cruel,” and then, turning to the Russian, “O Carl,” she cried, “do not go. Save me! Save me from this beast!”
“Then stand aside,” cried Kraski, and as the girl wrenched herself free from the grasp of Miranda the Russian leveled his automatic and fired point-blank at the Spaniard. The bullet missed its target; the empty shell jammed in the breach and as Kraski pulled the trigger again with no result he glanced at his weapon and, discovering its uselessness, hurled it from him with an oath. As he strove frantically to bring his rifle into action Esteban threw back his spear hand with the short, heavy spear that he had learned by now so well to use, and before the other could press the trigger of his rifle the barbed shaft tore through his chest and heart. Without a sound Carl Kraski sank dead at the foot of his enemy and his rival, while the woman both had loved, each in his own selfish or brutal way, sank sobbing to the ground in the last and deepest depths of despair.
Seeing that the other was dead, Esteban stepped forward and wrenched his spear from Kraski’s body and also relieved his dead enemy of his ammunition and weapons. As he did so his eyes fell upon a little bag made of skins which Kraski had fastened to his waist by the grass rope he had recently fashioned to uphold his primitive skirt.
The Spaniard felt of the bag and tried to figure out the nature of its contents, coming to the conclusion that it was ammunition, but he did not examine it closely until he had carried the dead man’s weapons into his hut, where he had also taken the girl, who crouched in a corner, sobbing.
“Poor Carl! Poor Carl!” she moaned, and then to the man facing her: “You beast!”
“Yes,” he cried, with a laugh, “I am a beast. I am Tarzan of the Apes, and that dirty Russian dared to call me Esteban. I am Tarzan! I am Tarzan of the Apes!” he repeated in a loud scream. “Who dares call me otherwise dies. I will show them. I will show them,” he mumbled.
The girl looked at him with wide and flaming eyes and shuddered.
“Mad,” she muttered. “Mad! My God—alone in the jungle with a maniac!” And, in truth, in one respect was Esteban Miranda mad—mad with the madness of the artist who lives the part he plays. And for so long, now, had Esteban Miranda played the part, and so really proficient had he become in his interpretation of the noble character, that he believed himself Tarzan, and in outward appearance he might have deceived the ape-man’s best friend. But within that godlike form was the heart of a cur and the soul of a craven.
“He would have stolen Tarzan’s mate,” muttered Esteban. “Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle! Did you see how I slew him, with a single shaft? You could love a weakling, could you, when you could have the love of the great Tarzan!”
“I loathe you,” said the girl. “You are indeed a beast. You are lower than the beasts.”
“You are mine, though,” said the Spaniard, “and you shall never be another’s—first I would kill you—but let us see what the Russian had in his little bag of hides, it feels like ammunition enough to kill a regiment,” and he untied the thongs that held the mouth of the bag closed and let some of the contents spill out upon the floor of the hut. As the sparkling stones rolled scintillant before their astonished eyes, the girl gasped in incredulity.
“Holy Mary!” exclaimed the Spaniard, “they are diamonds.”
“Hundreds of them,” murmured the girl. “Where could he have gotten them?”
“I do not know and I do not care,” said Esteban. “They are mine. They are all mine—I am rich, Flora. I am rich, and if you are a good girl you shall share my wealth with me.”
Flora Hawkes’s eyes narrowed. Awakened within her breast was the always-present greed that dominated her being, and beside it, and equally as powerful now to dominate her, her hatred for the Spaniard. Could he have known it, possession of those gleaming baubles had crystallized at last in the mind of the woman a determination she had long fostered to slay the Spaniard while he slept. Heretofore she had been afraid of being left alone in the jungle, but now the desire to possess this great wealth overcame her terror.
Tarzan, ranging the jungle, picked up the trail of the various bands of west coast boys and the fleeing slaves of the dead Arabs, and overhauling each in turn he prosecuted his search for Luvini, awing the blacks into truthfulness and leaving them in a state of terror when he departed. Each and every one, they told him the same story. There was none who had seen Luvini since the night of the battle and the fire, and each was positive that he must have escaped with some other band.
So thoroughly occupied had the ape-man’s mind been during the past few days with his sorrow and his search that lesser considerations had gone neglected, with the result that he had not noted that the bag containing the diamonds was missing. In fact, he had practically forgotten the diamonds when, by the merest vagary of chance his mind happened to revert to them, and then it was that he suddenly realized that they were missing, but when he had lost them, or the circumstances surrounding the loss, he could not recall.
“Those rascally Europeans,” he muttered to Jad-bal-ja, “they must have taken them,” and suddenly with the thought the scarlet scar flamed brilliantly upon his forehead, as just anger welled within him against the perfidy and ingratitude of the men he had succored. “Come,” he said to Jad-bal-ja, “as we search for Luvini we shall search for these others also.” And so it was that Peebles and Throck and Bluber had traveled but a short distance toward the coast when, during a noon-day halt, they were surprised to see the figure of the ape-man moving majestically toward them while, at his side, paced the great, black-maned lion.
Tarzan made no acknowledgment of their exuberant greeting, but came forward in silence to stand at last with folded arms before them. There was a grim, accusing expression upon his countenance that brought the chill of fear to Bluber’s cowardly heart, and blanched the faces of the two hardened English pugs.
“What is it?” they chorused. “What is wrong? What has happened?”
“I have come for the bag of stones you took from me,” said Tarzan simply.
Each of the three eyed his companion suspiciously.
“I do not understand vot you mean, Mr. Tarzan,” purred Bluber, rubbing his palms together. “I am sure dere is some mistake, unless—” he cast a furtive and suspicious glance in the direction of Peebles and Throck.
“I don’t know nothin’ about no bag of stones,” said Peebles, “but I will say as ’ow you can’t trust no Jew.”
“I don’t trust any of you,” said Tarzan. “I will give you five seconds to hand over the bag of stones, and if you don’t produce it in that time I shall have you thoroughly searched.”
“Sure,” cried Bluber, “search me, search me, by all means. Vy, Mr. Tarzan, I vouldn’t take notting from you for notting.”
“There’s something wrong here,” growled Throck. “I ain’t got nothin’ of yours and I’m sure these two haven’t neither.”
“Where is the other?” asked Tarzan.
“Oh, Kraski? He disappeared the same night you brought us to that village. We hain’t seen him since—that’s it; I got it now—we wondered why he left, and now I see it as plain as the face on me nose. It was him that stole that bag of stones. That’s what he done. We’ve been tryin’ to figure out ever since he left what he stole, and now I see it plain enough.”
“Sure,” exclaimed Peebles. “That’s it, and ’ere we are, ’n that’s that.”
“Ve might have knowed it, ve might have knowed it,” agreed Bluber.
“But nevertheless I’m going to have you all searched,” said Tarzan, and when the head-man came and Tarzan had explained what he desired, the three whites were quickly stripped and searched. Even their few belongings were thoroughly gone through, but no bag of stones was revealed.
Without a word Tarzan turned back toward the jungle, and in another moment the blacks and the three Europeans saw the leafy sea of foliage swallow the ape-man and the golden lion.
“Gord help Kraski!” exclaimed Peebles.
“Wot do yer suppose he wants with a bag o’ stones?” inquired Throck. “ ’E must be a bit balmy, I’ll say.”
“Balmy nudding,” exclaimed Bluber. “Dere is but vun kind of stones in Africa vot Kraski would steal and run off into der jungle alone mit—diamonds.”
Peebles and Throck opened their eyes in surprise. “The damned Russian!” exclaimed the former. “He double-crossed us, that’s what ’e did.”
“He likely as not saved our lives, says hi,” said Throck. “If this ape feller had found Kraski and the diamonds with us we’d of all suffered alike—you couldn’t ’a’ made ’im believe we didn’t ’ave a ’and in it. And Kraski wouldn’t ’a’ done nothin’ to help us out.”
“I ’opes ’e catches the beggar!” exclaimed Peebles, fervently.
They were startled into silence a moment later by the sight of Tarzan returning to the camp, but he paid no attention to the whites, going instead directly to the head-man, with whom he conferred for several minutes. Then, once more, he turned and left.
Acting on information gained from the head-man, Tarzan struck off through the jungle in the general direction of the village where he had left the four whites in charge of the chief, and from which Kraski had later escaped alone. He moved rapidly, leaving Jad-bal-ja to follow behind, covering the distance to the village in a comparatively short time, since he moved almost in an air line through the trees, where there was no matted undergrowth to impede his progress.
Outside the village gate he took up Kraski’s spoor, now almost obliterated, it is true, but still legible to the keen perceptive faculties of the ape-man. This he followed swiftly, since Kraski had clung tenaciously to the open trail that wound in a general westward direction.
The sun had dropped almost to the western tree-tops, when Tarzan came suddenly upon a clearing beside a sluggish stream, near the banks of which stood a small, rude hut, surrounded by a palisade and a thorn boma.
The ape-man paused and listened, sniffing the air with his sensitive nostrils, and then on noiseless feet he crossed the clearing toward the hut. In the grass outside the palisade lay the dead body of a white man, and a single glance told the ape-man that it was the fugitive whom he sought. Instantly he realized the futility of searching the corpse for the bag of diamonds, since it was a foregone conclusion that they were now in the possession of whoever had slain the Russian. A perfunctory examination revealed the fact that he was right in so far as the absence of the diamonds was concerned.
Both inside the hut and outside the palisade were indications of the recent presence of a man and woman, the spoor of the former tallying with that of the creature who had killed Gobu, the great ape, and hunted Bara, the deer, upon the preserves of the ape-man. But the woman—who was she? It was evident that she had been walking upon sore, tired feet, and that in lieu of shoes she wore bandages of cloth.
Tarzan followed the spoor of the man and the woman where it led from the hut into the jungle. As it progressed it became apparent that the woman had been lagging behind, and that she had commenced to limp more and more painfully. Her progress was very slow, and Tarzan could see that the man had not waited for her, but that he had been, in some places, a considerable distance ahead of her.
And so it was that Esteban had forged far ahead of Flora Hawkes, whose bruised and bleeding feet would scarce support her.
“Wait for me, Esteban,” she had pleaded. “Do not desert me. Do not leave me alone here in this terrible jungle.”
“Then keep up with me,” growled the Spaniard. “Do you think that with this fortune in my possession I am going to wait here forever in the middle of the jungle for someone to come and take it away from me? No, I am going on to the coast as fast as I can. If you can keep up, well and good. If you cannot, that is your own lookout.”
“But you could not desert me. Even you, Esteban, could not be such a beast after all that you have forced me to do for you.”
The Spaniard laughed. “You are nothing more to me,” he said, “than an old glove. With this,” and he held the sack of diamonds before him, “I can purchase the finest gloves in the capitals of the world—new gloves,” and he laughed grimly at his little joke.
“Esteban, Esteban,” she cried, “come back, come back. I can go no farther. Do not leave me. Please come back and save me.” But he only laughed at her, and as a turn of the trail shut him from her sight, she sank helpless and exhausted to the ground.
THAT night Esteban made his lonely camp beside a jungle trail that wound through the dry wash of an old river bed, along which a tiny rivulet still trickled, affording the Spaniard the water which he craved.
The obsession which possessed him that he was in truth Tarzan of the Apes, imparted to him a false courage, so that he could camp alone upon the ground without recourse to artificial protection of any kind, and fortune had favored him in this respect in that it had sent no prowling beasts of prey to find him upon those occasions that he had dared too much. During the period that Flora Hawkes had been with him he had built shelters for her, but now that he had deserted her and was again alone, he could not, in the rôle that he had assumed, consider so effeminate an act as the building of even a thorn boma for protection during the darkness of the night.
He did, however, build a fire, for he had made a kill and had not yet reached a point of primitive savagery which permitted him even to imagine that he enjoyed raw meat.
Having devoured what meat he wanted and filled himself at the little rivulet, Esteban came back and squatted before his fire, where he drew the pouch of diamonds from his loin cloth and, opening it, spilled a handful of the precious gems into his palm. The flickering firelight playing upon them sent scintillant gleams shooting into the dark of the surrounding jungle night as the Spaniard let a tiny stream of the sparkling stones trickle from one hand to the other, and in the pretty play of light the Spaniard saw visions of the future—power, luxury, beautiful women—all that great wealth might purchase for a man. With half closed eyes he dreamed of the ideal that he should search the world over to obtain—the dream-woman for whom he had always searched—the dream-woman he had never found, the fit companion for such as Esteban Miranda imagined himself to be. Presently through the dark lashes that veiled his narrowed lids the Spaniard seemed to see before him in the flickering light of his campfire a vague materialization of the figure of his dream—a woman’s figure, clothed in flowing diaphanous white which appeared to hover just above him at the outer rim of his firelight at the summit of the ancient river bank.
It was strange how the vision persisted. Esteban closed his eyes tightly, and then opened them ever so little, and there, as it had been before he closed them, the vision remained. And then he opened his eyes wide, and still the figure of the woman in white floated above him.
Esteban Miranda went suddenly pale. “Mother of God!” he cried. “It is Flora. She is dead and has come back to haunt me.”
With staring eyes he slowly rose to his feet to confront the apparition, when in soft and gentle tones it spoke.
“Heart of my heart,” it cried, “it is really you!”
Instantly Esteban realized that this was no disembodied spirit, nor was it Flora—but who was it? Who was this vision of beauty, alone in the savage African wilderness?
Very slowly now it was descending the embankment and coming toward him. Esteban returned the diamonds to the pouch and replaced it inside his loin cloth.
With outstretched arms the girl came toward him. “My love, my love,” she cried, “do not tell me that you do not know me.” She was close enough now for the Spaniard to see her rapidly rising and falling breasts and her lips trembling with love and passion. A sudden wave of hot desire swept over him, so with outstretched arms he sprang forward to meet her and crush her to his breast.
Tarzan, following the spoor of the man and the woman, moved in a leisurely manner along the jungle trail, for he realized that no haste was essential to overtake these two. Nor was he at all surprised when he came suddenly upon the huddled figure of a woman, lying in the center of the pathway. He knelt beside her and laid a hand upon her shoulder, eliciting a startled scream.
“God!” she cried, “this is the end!”
“You are in no danger,” said the ape-man. “I will not harm you.”
She turned her eyes and looked up at him. At first she thought he was Esteban. “You have come back to save me, Esteban?” she asked.
“Esteban!” he exclaimed. “I am not Esteban. That is not my name.” And then she recognized him.
“Lord Greystoke!” she cried. “It is really you?”
“Yes,” he said, “and who are you?”
“I am Flora Hawkes. I was Lady Greystoke’s maid.”
“I remember you,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I am afraid to tell you,” she said. “I am afraid of your anger.”
“Tell me,” he commanded. “You should know, Flora, that I do not harm women.”
“We came to get gold from the vaults of Opar,” she said. “But that you know.”
“I know nothing of it,” he replied. “Do you mean that you were with those Europeans who drugged me and left me in their camp?”
“Yes,” she said, “we got the gold, but you came with your Waziri and took it from us.”
“I came with no Waziri and took nothing from you,” said Tarzan. “I do not understand you.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, for she knew that Tarzan of the Apes did not lie.
“We became separated,” she said, “after our men turned against us. Esteban stole me from the others, and then, after a while Kraski found us. He was the Russian. He came with a bagful of diamonds and then Esteban killed him and took the diamonds.”
It was now Tarzan’s turn to experience surprise.
“And Esteban is the man who is with you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “but he has deserted me. I could not walk farther on my sore feet. He has gone and left me here to die and he has taken the diamonds with him.”
“We shall find him,” said the ape-man. “Come.”
“But I cannot walk,” said the girl.
“That is a small matter,” he said, and stooping lifted her to his shoulder.
Easily the ape-man bore the exhausted girl along the trail. “It is not far to water,” he said, “and water is what you need. It will help to revive you and give you strength, and perhaps I shall be able to find food for you soon.”
“Why are you so good to me?” asked the girl.
“You are a woman. I could not leave you alone in the jungle to die, no matter what you may have done,” replied the ape-man. And Flora Hawkes could only sob a broken plea for forgiveness for the wrong she had done him.
It grew quite dark, but still they moved along the silent trail until presently Tarzan caught in the distance the reflection of firelight.
“I think we shall soon find your friend,” he whispered. “Make no noise.”
A moment later his keen ears caught the sound of voices. He halted and lowered the girl to her feet.
“If you cannot follow,” he said, “wait here. I do not wish him to escape. I will return for you. If you can follow on slowly, do so.” And then he left her and made his way cautiously forward toward the light and the voices. He heard Flora Hawkes moving directly behind him. It was evident that she could not bear the thought of being left alone again in the dark jungle. Almost simultaneously Tarzan heard a low whine a few paces to his right. “Jad-bal-ja,” he whispered in a low voice, “heel,” and the great black-maned lion crept close to him, and Flora Hawkes, stifling a scream, rushed to his side and grasped his arms.
“Silence,” he whispered; “Jad-bal-ja will not harm you.”
An instant later the three came to the edge of the ancient river bank, and through the tall grasses growing there looked down upon the little camp beneath.
Tarzan, to his consternation, saw a counterpart of himself standing before a little fire, while slowly approaching the man, with outstretched arms, was a woman, draped in flowing white. He heard her words; soft words of love and endearment, and at the sound of the voice and the scent spoor that a vagrant wind carried suddenly to his nostrils, a strange complex of emotion overwhelmed him—happiness, despair, rage, love, and hate.
He saw the man at the fire step forward with open arms to take the woman to his breast, and then Tarzan separated the grasses and stepped to the very edge of the embankment, his voice shattering the jungle with a single word.
“Jane!” he cried, and instantly the man and woman turned and looked up at him, where his figure was dimly revealed in the light of the campfire. At sight of him the man wheeled and raced for the jungle on the opposite side of the river, and then Tarzan leaped to the bottom of the wash below and ran toward the woman.
“Jane,” he cried, “it is you, it is you!”
The woman showed her bewilderment. She looked first at the retreating figure of the man she had been about to embrace and then turned her eyes toward Tarzan. She drew her fingers across her brow and looked back toward Esteban, but Esteban was no longer in sight. Then she took a faltering step toward the ape-man.
“My God,” she cried, “what does it mean? Who are you, and if you are Tarzan who was he?”
“I am Tarzan, Jane,” said the ape-man.
She looked back and saw Flora Hawkes approaching. “Yes,” she said, “you are Tarzan. I saw you when you ran off into the jungle with Flora Hawkes. I cannot understand, John. I could not believe that you, even had you suffered an accident to your head, could have done such a thing.”
“I, run off into the jungle with Flora Hawkes?” he asked, in unfeigned surprise.
“I saw you,” said Jane.
The ape-man turned toward Flora. “I do not understand it,” he said.
“It was Esteban who ran off into the jungle with me, Lady Greystoke,” said the girl. “It was Esteban who was about to deceive you again. This is indeed Lord Greystoke. The other was an impostor, who only just deserted me and left me to die in the jungle. Had not Lord Greystoke come when he did I should be dead by now.”
Lady Greystoke took a faltering step toward her husband. “Ah, John,” she said, “I knew it could not have been you. My heart told me, but my eyes deceived me. Quick,” she cried, “that impostor must be captured. Hurry, John, before he escapes.”
“Let him go,” said the ape-man. “As much as I want him, as much as I want that which he has stolen from me, I will not leave you alone again in the jungle, Jane, even to catch him.”
“But Jad-bal-ja,” she cried. “What of him?”
“Ah,” cried the ape-man, “I had forgotten,” and turning to the lion he pointed toward the direction that the Spaniard had escaped. “Fetch him, Jad-bal-ja,” he cried; and, with a bound, the tawny beast was off upon the spoor of his quarry.
“He will kill him?” asked Flora Hawkes, shuddering. And yet at heart she was glad of the just fate that was overtaking the Spaniard.
“No, he will not kill him,” said Tarzan of the Apes. “He may maul him a bit, but he will bring him back alive if it is possible.” And then, as though the fate of the fugitive was already forgotten, he turned toward his mate.
“Jane,” he said, “Usula told me that you were dead. He said that they found your burned body in the Arab village and that they buried it there. How is it, then, that you are here alive and unharmed? I have been searching the jungles for Luvini to avenge your death. Perhaps it is well that I did not find him.”
“You would never have found him,” replied Jane Clayton, “but I cannot understand why Usula should have told you that he had found my body and buried it.”
“Some prisoners that he took,” replied Tarzan, “told him that Luvini had taken you bound hand and foot into one of the Arab huts near the village gateway, and that there he had further secured you to a stake driven into the floor of the hut. After the village had been destroyed by fire Usula and the other Waziri returned to search for you with some of the prisoners they had taken who pointed out the location of the hut, where the charred remains of a human body were found beside a burned stake to which it had apparently been tied.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the girl, “I see. Luvini did bind me hand and foot and tie me to the stake, but later he came back into the hut and removed the bonds. He attempted to attack me—how long we fought I do not know, but so engrossed were we in our struggle that neither one of us was aware of the burning of the village about us. As I persistently fought him off I caught a glimpse of a knife in his belt, and then I let him seize me and as his arms encircled me I grasped the knife and, drawing it from its sheath, plunged it into his back, below his left shoulder—that was the end. Luvini sank lifeless to the floor of the hut. Almost simultaneously the rear and roof of the structure burst into flames.
“I was almost naked, for he had torn nearly all my clothing from me in our struggles. Hanging upon the wall of the hut was this white burnoose, the property, doubtless, of one of the murdered Arabs. I seized it, and throwing it about me ran into the village street. The huts were now all aflame, and the last of the natives was disappearing through the gateway. To my right was a section of palisade that had not yet been attacked by the flames. To escape into the jungle by the gateway would have meant running into the arms of my enemies, and so, somehow, I managed to scale the palisade and drop into the jungle unseen by any.
“I have had considerable difficulty eluding the various bands of blacks who escaped the village. A part of the time I have been hunting for the Waziri and the balance I have had to remain in hiding. I was resting in the crotch of a tree, about half a mile from here, when I saw the light of this man’s fire, and when I came to investigate I was almost stunned by joy to discover that I had, as I imagined, stumbled upon my Tarzan.”
“It was Luvini’s body, then, and not yours that they buried,” said Tarzan.
“Yes,” said Jane, “and it was this man who just escaped whom I saw run off into the jungle with Flora, and not you, as I believed.”
Flora Hawkes looked up suddenly. “And it must have been Esteban who came with the Waziri and stole the gold from us. He fooled our men and he must have fooled the Waziri, too.”
“He might have fooled anyone if he could deceive me,” said Jane Clayton. “I should have discovered the deception in a few minutes I have no doubt, but in the flickering light of the campfire, and influenced as I was by the great joy of seeing Lord Greystoke again, I believed quickly that which I wanted to believe.”
The ape-man ran his fingers through his thick shock of hair in a characteristic gesture of meditation. “I cannot understand how he fooled Usula in broad daylight,” he said with a shake of his head.
“I can,” said Jane. “He told him that he had suffered an injury to his head which had caused him to lose his memory partially—an explanation which accounted for many lapses in the man’s interpretation of your personality.”
“He was a clever devil,” commented the ape-man.
“He was a devil, all right,” said Flora.
It was more than an hour later that the grasses at the river bank suddenly parted and Jad-bal-ja emerged silently into their presence. Grasped in his jaws was a torn and bloody leopard skin which he brought and laid at the feet of his master.
The ape-man picked the thing up and examined it, and then he scowled. “I believe Jad-bal-ja killed him after all,” he said.
“He probably resisted,” said Jane Clayton, “in which event Jad-bal-ja could do nothing else in self-defense but slay him.”
“Do you suppose he ate him?” cried Flora Hawkes, drawing fearfully away from the beast.
“No,” said Tarzan, “he has not had time. In the morning we will follow the spoor and find his body. I should like to have the diamonds again.” And then he told Jane the strange story connected with his acquisition of the great wealth represented by the little bag of stones.
The following morning they set out in search of Esteban’s corpse. The trail led through dense brush and thorns to the edge of the river farther down stream, and there it disappeared, and though the ape-man searched both sides of the river for a couple of miles above and below the point at which he had lost the spoor, he found no further sign of the Spaniard. There was blood along the tracks that Esteban had made and blood upon the grasses at the river’s brim.
At last the ape-man returned to the two women. “That is the end of the man who would be Tarzan,” he said.
“Do you think he is dead?” asked Jane.
“Yes, I am sure of it,” said the ape-man. “From the blood I imagine that Jad-bal-ja mauled him, but that he managed to break away and get into the river. The fact that I can find no indication of his having reached the bank within a reasonable distance of this spot leads me to believe that he has been devoured by crocodiles.”
Again Flora Hawkes shuddered. “He was a wicked man,” she said, “but I would not wish even the wickedest such a fate as that.”
The ape-man shrugged. “He brought it upon himself, and, doubtless, the world is better off without him.”
“It was my fault,” said Flora. “It was my wickedness that brought him and the others here. I told them of what I had heard of the gold in the treasure vaults of Opar—it was my idea to come here and steal it and to find a man who could impersonate Lord Greystoke. Because of my wickedness many men have died, and you, Lord Greystoke, and your lady, have almost met your death—I do not dare to ask for forgiveness.”
Jane Clayton put her arm about the girl’s shoulder. “Avarice has been the cause of many crimes since the world began,” she said, “and when crime is invoked in its aid it assumes its most repulsive aspect and brings most often its own punishment, as you, Flora, may well testify. For my part I forgive you. I imagine that you have learned your lesson.”
“You have paid a heavy price for your folly,” said the ape-man. “You have been punished enough. We will take you to your friends who are on their way to the coast under escort of a friendly tribe. They cannot be far distant, for, from the condition of the men when I saw them, long marches are beyond their physical powers.”
The girl dropped to her knees at his feet. “How can I thank you for your kindness?” she said. “But I would rather remain here in Africa with you and Lady Greystoke, and work for you and show by my loyalty that I can redeem the wrong I did you.”
Tarzan glanced at his wife questioningly, and Jane Clayton signified her assent to the girl’s request.
“Very well, then,” said the ape-man, “you may remain with us, Flora.”
“You will never regret it,” said the girl. “I will work my fingers off for you.”
The three, and Jad-bal-ja, had been three days upon the march toward home when Tarzan, who was in the lead, paused, and, raising his head, sniffed the jungle air. Then he turned to them with a smile. “My Waziri are disobedient,” he said. “I sent them home and yet here they are, coming toward us, directly away from home.”
A few minutes later they met the van of the Waziri, and great was the rejoicing of the blacks when they found both their master and mistress alive and unscathed.
“And now that we have found you,” said Tarzan, after the greetings were over, and innumerable questions had been asked and answered, “tell me what you did with the gold that you took from the camp of the Europeans.”
“We hid it, O Bwana, where you told us to hide it,” replied Usula.
“I was not with you, Usula,” said the ape-man. “It was another, who deceived Lady Greystoke even as he deceived you—a bad man—who impersonated Tarzan of the Apes so cleverly that it is no wonder that you were imposed upon.”
“Then it was not you who told us that your head had been injured and that you could not remember the language of the Waziri?” demanded Usula.
“It was not I,” said Tarzan, “for my head has not been injured, and I remember well the language of my children.”
“Ah,” cried Usula, “then it was not our Big Bwana who ran from Buto, the rhinoceros?”
Tarzan laughed. “Did the other run from Buto?”
“That he did,” cried Usula; “he ran in great terror.”
“I do not know that I blame him,” said Tarzan, “for Buto is no pleasant playfellow.”
“But our Big Bwana would not run from him,” said Usula, proudly.
“Even if another than I hid the gold it was you who dug the hole. Lead me to the spot then, Usula.”
The Waziri constructed rude yet comfortable litters for the two white women, though Jane Clayton laughed at the idea that it was necessary that she be carried and insisted upon walking beside her bearers more often than she rode. Flora Hawkes, however, weak and exhausted as she was, could not have proceeded far without being carried, and was glad of the presence of the brawny Waziri who bore her along the jungle trail so easily.
It was a happy company that marched in buoyant spirits toward the spot where the Waziri had cached the gold for Esteban. The blacks were overflowing with good nature because they had found their master and their mistress, while the relief and joy of Tarzan and Jane were too deep for expression.
When at last they came to the place beside the river where they had buried the gold the Waziri, singing and laughing, commenced to dig for the treasure, but presently their singing ceased and their laughter was replaced by expressions of puzzled concern.
For a while Tarzan watched them in silence and then a slow smile overspread his countenance. “You must have buried it deep, Usula,” he said.
The black scratched his head. “No, not so deep as this, Bwana,” he cried. “I cannot understand it. We should have found the gold before this.”
“Are you sure you are looking in the right place?” asked Tarzan.
“This is the exact spot, Bwana,” the black assured him, “but the gold is not here. Someone has removed it since we buried it.”
“The Spaniard again,” commented Tarzan. “He was a slick customer.”
“But he could not have taken it alone,” said Usula. “There were many ingots of it.”
“No,” said Tarzan, “he could not, and yet it is not here.”
The Waziri and Tarzan searched carefully about the spot where the gold had been buried, but so clever had been the woodcraft of Owaza that he had obliterated even from the keen senses of the ape-man every vestige of the spoor that he and the Spaniard had made in carrying the gold from the old hiding place to the new.
“It is gone,” said the ape-man, “but I shall see that it does not get out of Africa,” and he despatched runners in various directions to notify the chiefs of the friendly tribes surrounding his domain to watch carefully every safari crossing their territory, and to let none pass who carried gold.
“That will stop them,” he said after the runners had departed.
That night as they made their camp upon the trail toward home, the three whites were seated about a small fire with Jad-bal-ja lying just behind the ape-man, who was examining the leopard skin that the golden lion had retrieved in his pursuit of the Spaniard, when Tarzan turned toward his wife.
“You were right, Jane,” he said. “The treasure vaults of Opar are not for me. This time I have lost not only the gold but a fabulous fortune in diamonds as well, beside risking that greatest of all treasures—yourself.”
“Let the gold and the diamonds go, John,” she said; “we have one another, and Korak.”
“And a bloody leopard skin,” he supplemented, “with a mystery map painted upon it in blood.”
Jad-bal-ja sniffed the hide and licked his chops in—anticipation or retrospection—which?
AT sight of the true Tarzan, Esteban Miranda turned and fled blindly into the jungle. His heart was cold with terror as he rushed on in blind fear. He had no objective in mind. He did not know in what direction he was going. His only thought—the thought which dominated him—was based solely upon a desire to put as much distance as possible between himself and the ape-man, and so he blundered on, forcing his way through dense thickets of thorns that tore and lacerated his flesh until, at every step he left a trail of blood behind him.
At the river’s edge the thorns reached out and seized again, as they had several times before, the precious leopard skin to which he clung with almost the same tenacity as he clung to life itself. But this time the thorns would not leave go their hold, and as he struggled to tear it away from them his eyes turned back in the direction from which he had come. He heard the sound of a great body moving rapidly through the thicket toward him, and an instant later saw the baleful glare of two gleaming, yellow-green spots of flame. With a stifled cry of terror the Spaniard relinquished his hold upon the leopard skin and, wheeling, dived into the river.
As the black waters closed above his head Jad-bal-ja came to the edge of the bank and looked down upon the widening circles which marked the spot of his quarry’s disappearance, for Esteban, who was a strong swimmer, struck boldly for the opposite side of the stream, keeping himself well submerged.
For a moment the golden lion scanned the surface of the river, and then he turned and sniffed at the hide the Spaniard had been forced to leave behind, and grasping it in his jaws tore it from the thorns that held it and carried it back to lay it at the feet of his master.
Forced at last to come to the surface for air the Spaniard arose amid a mass of tangled foliage and branches. For a moment he thought that he was lost, so tightly held was he by the entangling boughs, but presently he forced his way upward, and as his head appeared above the surface of the water amidst the foliage he discovered that he had arisen directly beneath a fallen tree that was floating down the center of the stream. After considerable effort he managed to draw himself up to the boughs and find a place astride the great bole, and thus he floated down stream in comparative safety.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he realized with what comparative ease he had escaped the just vengeance of the ape-man. It is true that he bemoaned the loss of the hide which carried the map to the location of the hidden gold, but he still retained in his possession a far greater treasure, and as he thought of it his hands gloatingly fondled the bag of diamonds fastened to his loin cloth. Yet, even though he possessed this great fortune in diamonds, his avaricious mind constantly returned to the golden ingots by the waterfall.
“Owaza will get it,” he muttered to himself. “I never trusted the black dog, and when he deserted me I knew well enough what his plans were.”
All night long Esteban Miranda floated down stream upon the fallen tree, seeing no sign of life, until shortly after daybreak, he passed a native village upon the shore.
It was the village of Obebe, the cannibal, and at sight of the strange figure of the white giant floating down the stream upon the bole of a tree, the young woman who espied him raised a great hue and cry until the population of the village lined the shore watching him pass.
“It is a strange god,” cried one.
“It is the river devil,” said the witch doctor. “He is a friend of mine. Now, indeed, shall we catch many fish if for each ten that you catch you give one to me.”
“It is not the river devil,” rumbled the deep voice of Obebe, the cannibal. “You are getting old,” he said to the witch doctor, “and of late your medicine has been poor medicine, and now you tell me that Obebe’s greatest enemy is the river devil. That is Tarzan of the Apes. Obebe knows him well.” And in truth every cannibal chief in the vicinity knew Tarzan of the Apes well and feared and hated him, for relentless had been the ape-man’s war against them.
“It is Tarzan of the Apes,” repeated Obebe, “and he is in trouble. Perhaps it is our chance to capture him.”
He called his warriors about him, and presently half a hundred brawny young bucks started at a jog trot down the trail that paralleled the river. For miles they followed the slowly moving tree which carried Esteban Miranda until at last at a bend in the river the tree was caught in the outer circle of a slow-moving eddy, which carried it beneath the overhanging limbs of trees growing close to the river’s edge.
Cramped and chilled and hungry as he was, Esteban was glad of the opportunity to desert his craft and gain the shore. And so, laboriously, he drew himself up among the branches of the tree that momentarily offered him a haven of retreat from the river, and crawling to its stem lowered himself to the ground beneath, unconscious of the fact that in the grasses around him squatted half a hundred cannibal warriors.
Leaning against the bole of the tree the Spaniard rested for a moment. He felt for the diamonds and found that they were safe.
“I am a lucky devil, after all,” he said aloud, and almost simultaneously the fifty blacks arose about him and leaped upon him. So sudden was the attack, so overwhelming the force, that the Spaniard had no opportunity to defend himself against them, with the result that he was down and securely bound almost before he could realize what was happening to him.
“Ah, Tarzan of the Apes, I have you at last,” gloated Obebe, the cannibal, but Esteban did not understand a word the man said, and so he could make no reply. He talked to Obebe in English, but that language the latter did not understand.
Of only one thing was Esteban certain; that he was a prisoner and that he was being taken back toward the interior. When they reached Obebe’s village there was great rejoicing on the part of the women and the children and the warriors who had remained behind. But the witch doctor shook his head and made wry faces and dire prophecies.
“You have seized the river devil,” he said. “We shall catch no more fish, and presently a great sickness will fall upon Obebe’s people and they will all die like flies.” But Obebe only laughed at the witch doctor for, being an old man and a great king, he had accumulated much wisdom and, with the acquisition of wisdom man is more inclined to be skeptical in matters of religion.
“You may laugh now, Obebe,” said the witch doctor, “but later you will not laugh. Wait and see.”
“When, with my own hands, I kill Tarzan of the Apes, then indeed shall I laugh,” replied the chief, “and when I and my warriors have eaten his heart and his flesh, then, indeed, shall we no longer fear any of your devils.”
“Wait,” cried the witch doctor angrily, “and you shall see.”
They took the Spaniard, securely bound, and threw him into a filthy hut, through the doorway of which he could see the women of the village preparing cooking fires and pots for the feast of the coming night. A cold sweat stood out upon the brow of Esteban Miranda as he watched these gruesome preparations, the significance of which he could not misinterpret, when coupled with the gestures and the glances that were directed toward the hut where he lay, by the inhabitants of the village.
The afternoon was almost spent and the Spaniard felt that he could count the hours of life remaining to him upon possibly two fingers of one hand, when there came from the direction of the river a series of piercing screams which shattered the quiet of the jungle, and brought the inhabitants of the village to startled attention, and an instant later sent them in a mad rush in the direction of the fear-laden shrieks. But they were too late and reached the river only just in time to see a woman dragged beneath the surface by a huge crocodile.
“Ah, Obebe, what did I tell you?” demanded the witch doctor, exultantly. “Already has the devil god commenced his revenge upon your people.”
The ignorant villagers, steeped in superstition, looked fearfully from their witch doctor to their chief. Obebe scowled, “He is Tarzan of the Apes,” he insisted.
“He is the river devil who has taken the shape of Tarzan of the Apes,” insisted the witch doctor.
“We shall see,” replied Obebe. “If he is the river devil he can escape our bonds. If he is Tarzan of the Apes he cannot. If he is the river devil he will not die a natural death, like men die, but will live on forever. If he is Tarzan of the Apes some day he will die. We will keep him, then, and see, and that will prove whether or not he is Tarzan of the Apes or the river devil.”
“How?” asked the witch doctor.
“It is very simple,” replied Obebe. “If some morning we find that he has escaped we will know that he is the river devil, and because we have not harmed him but have fed him well while he has been here in our village, he will befriend us and no harm will come of it. But if he does not escape we will know that he is Tarzan of the Apes, provided he dies a natural death. And so, if he does not escape, we shall keep him until he dies and then we shall know that he was, indeed, Tarzan of the Apes.”
“But suppose he does not die?” asked the witch doctor, scratching his woolly head.
“Then,” exclaimed Obebe triumphantly, “we will know that you are right, and that he was, indeed, the river devil.”
Obebe went and ordered women to take food to the Spaniard while the witch doctor stood, where Obebe had left him, in the middle of the street, still scratching his head in thought.
And thus was Esteban Miranda, possessor of the most fabulous fortune in diamonds that the world had ever known, condemned to life imprisonment in the village of Obebe, the cannibal.
While he had been lying in the hut his traitorous confederate, Owaza, from the opposite bank of the river from the spot where he and Esteban had hidden the golden ingots, saw Tarzan and his Waziri come and search for the gold and go away again, and the following morning Owaza came with fifty men whom he had recruited from a neighboring village and dug up the gold and started with it toward the coast.
That night Owaza made camp just outside a tiny village of a minor chief, who was weak in warriors. The old fellow invited Owaza into his compound, and there he fed him and gave him native beer, while the chief’s people circulated among Owaza’s boys plying them with innumerable questions until at last the truth leaked out and the chief knew that Owaza’s porters were carrying a great store of yellow gold.
When the chief learned this for certain he was much perturbed, but finally a smile crossed his face as he talked with the half-drunken Owaza.
“You have much gold with you,” said the old chief, “and it is very heavy. It will be hard to get your boys to carry it all the way back to the coast.”
“Yes,” said Owaza, “but I shall pay them well.”
“If they did not have to carry it so far from home you would not have to pay them so much, would you?” asked the chief.
“No,” said Owaza, “but I cannot dispose of it this side of the coast.”
“I know where you can dispose of it within two days’ march,” replied the old chief.
“Where?” demanded Owaza. “And who here in the interior will buy it?”
“There is a white man who will give you a little piece of paper for it and you can take that paper to the coast and get the full value of your gold.”
“Who is this white man?” demanded Owaza, “and where is he?”
“He is a friend of mine,” said the chief, “and if you wish I will take you to him on the morrow, and you can bring with you all your gold and get the little piece of paper.”
“Good,” said Owaza, “and then I shall not have to pay the carriers but a very small amount.”
The carriers were glad, indeed, to learn the next day that they were not to go all the way to the coast, for even the lure of payment was not sufficient to overcome their dislike to so long a journey, and their fear of being at so great a distance from home. They were very happy, therefore, as they set forth on a two days’ march toward the northeast. And Owaza was happy and so was the old chief, who accompanied them himself, though why he was happy about it Owaza could not guess.
They had marched for almost two days when the chief sent one of his own men forward with a message.
“It is to my friend,” he said, “to tell him to come and meet us and lead us to his village.” And a few hours later, as the little caravan emerged from the jungle onto a broad, grassy plain, they saw not far from them, and approaching rapidly, a large band of warriors. Owaza halted.
“Who are those?” he demanded.
“Those are the warriors of my friend,” replied the chief, “and he is with them. See?” and he pointed toward a figure at the head of the blacks, who were approaching at a trot, their spears and white plumes gleaming in the sunshine.
“They come for war and not for peace,” said Owaza tearfully.
“That depends upon you, Owaza,” replied the chief.
“I do not understand you,” said Owaza.
“But you will in a few minutes after my friend has come.”
As the advancing warriors approached more closely Owaza saw a giant white at their head—a white whom he mistook for Esteban—the confederate he had so traitorously deserted. He turned upon the chief. “You have betrayed me,” he cried.
“Wait,” said the old chief; “nothing that belongs to you shall be taken from you.”
“The gold is not his,” cried Owaza. “He stole it,” and he pointed at Tarzan who had approached and halted before him, but who ignored him entirely and turned to the chief.
“Your runner came,” he said to the old man, “and brought your message, and Tarzan and his Waziri have come to see what they could do for their old friend.”
The chief smiled. “Your runner came to me, O Tarzan, four days since, and two days later came this man with his carriers, bearing golden ingots toward the coast. I told him that I had a friend who would buy them, giving him a little piece of paper for them, but that, of course, only in case the gold belonged to Owaza.”
The ape-man smiled. “You have done well, my friend,” he said. “The gold does not belong to Owaza.”
“It does not belong to you, either,” cried Owaza. “You are not Tarzan of the Apes. I know you. You came with the four white men and the white woman to steal the gold from Tarzan’s country, and then you stole it from your own friends.”
The chief and the Waziri laughed. The ape-man smiled one of his slow smiles.
“The other was an impostor, Owaza,” he said, “but I am Tarzan of the Apes, and I thank you for bringing my gold to me. Come,” he said, “it is but a few more miles to my home,” and the ape-man compelled Owaza to direct his carriers to bear the golden ingots to the Greystoke bungalow. There Tarzan fed the carriers and paid them, and the next morning sent them back toward their own country, and he sent Owaza with them, but not without a gift of value, accompanied with an admonition that the black never again return to Tarzan’s country.
When they had all departed, and Tarzan and Jane and Korak were standing upon the veranda of the bungalow with Jad-bal-ja lying at their feet, the ape-man threw an arm about his mate’s shoulders.
“I shall have to retract what I said about the gold of Opar not being for me, for you see before you a new fortune that has come all the way from the treasure vaults of Opar without any effort on my part.”
“Now, if someone would only bring your diamonds back,” laughed Jane.
“No chance of that,” said Tarzan. “They are unquestionably at the bottom of the Ugogo River,” and far away, upon the banks of the Ugogo, in the village of Obebe, the cannibal, Esteban Miranda lay in the filth of the hut that had been assigned to him, gloating over the fortune that he could never utilize as he entered upon a life of captivity that the stubbornness and superstition of Obebe had doomed him to undergo.